Faction Culinary School
by The Ferriswheel
Summary: "What is culinary then?" somebody near the heart of the room jeers mockingly, attention seeking. "Culinary," Four responds quietly. "Is an art." Beatrice "Tris" Prior attends Chicago's most revered culinary school, which separates its students into factions basing on virtues. She abandons her former faction and joins the Dauntless, the brave, where she struggles to fit in. AU
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

**I don't own Divergent!**

**TRIS**

If it weren't for the subtle pounding at the back of my head, I wouldn't turn my head to the side when my mom tells me today culinary classes begin, but the low aching thump continues so mom is completely oblivious to my heads condition.

"Beatrice, sweetheart, you need to wake up," my mother coos.

"My head is on fire," I moan softly.

"Hm where does it hurt Bea?" She asks sitting on the edge of my bed.

"Everywhere," I say.

I was aware that this feeling was there yesterday and I was sick from the latter today. Today was my first day of Faction Culinary School and I am sick. I fight the urge to moan because if I missed school today I was going to be quite behind tomorrow. My mother's cool fingers dance across my forehead swiping gently across my blush-blood stained cheek.

"I think you're sick Bea, you have to stay home," my mother says pulling the blankets up so they encase my small frame.

"Mom I'm going to be so behind tomorrow," I say my eyes pleading for a way to somehow work something out about the arrangements.

"I'll call the school, tell them you're sick. Caleb can tell the office also," she says in her sweet voice.

My mother being an Abnegation cook was selfless. She and my father both went to Faction Culinary School when they were my age. They both are cooks although not internationally famous because, Abnegation people are not famous; they project outward and provide people the simple pleasure of cooked meals. Faction Culinary School was the most famous and top-notch culinary school in Illinois.

"Sleep Beatrice, I'll bring you some soup later." With that said my mother walks out of the room leaving a cold trail of air in her wake.

I am failing to attend my first day of Faction Culinary School just because I am sick. I was missing the Choosing Ceremony in which I would be able to choose which faction I would like to join. Abnegation, Amity, Candor, Erudite, or Dauntless. My parents expected Caleb, my brother, and I to choose Abnegation, but I don't think I wanted a life of selfless culinary works. My brother would choose today, but I would choose tomorrow.  
**  
****[PAGE BREAK]****  
**  
"Beatrice, Beatrice hey Bea!" I hear my name shouted out. A sharp chastisement follows the voice that exclaimed my name.

"I'm sorry mom. It was selfish of me to yell," Caleb my brother says his voice louder, closer to me.

The throbbing has died down to an ache after it reached its peak sometime in the afternoon. I was going to school tomorrow no matter what. I was not missing selecting my faction again.

My door creaks open allowing unwanted light to flood in burning my darkness-adjusted eyes.

"Hey Bea," Caleb says his green eyes flicking around my room, probably trying to adjust to the dark.

"Hey Caleb," I croak propping myself up with my elbows jutted out to the side.

"I chose Erudite," he says suddenly. His eyes are nervously flickering to me as if I will reprimand him for choosing a faction other than Abnegation.

After my initial shock of Caleb's choice, I answer. "What'd mom and dad say?"

"Mom was fine. She said if it made me happy then she was happy. Dad sort of bit his lip and looked away. I hope he isn't mad…" Caleb trails off.

He doesn't go into expanded detail about the ceremony as I thought an Erudite would. The factions each hold a selected and separate virtue. Abnegation the selfless, Erudite the intelligent, Dauntless the brave and courageous, Amity the friendly and peaceful, and Candor the honest, the factions were separated at school and taught together. I don't know how I would pick my faction tomorrow because I wasn't present for the ceremony, but I hoped I knew the answer to which faction I would choose tomorrow because I had no idea now.

**[PAGE BREAK]**

I wake up with a clear head and a nervous ting in my arms making my blood electric. "Are you feeling alright Bea?" my mother's voice threads across the room lying stagnant in the air when I don't respond immediately.

"Yeah I'm fine," I reply widening my eyes and yawing once.

"Be down in ten minutes so you can go. Don't want to be late again!" my mother says giving me a knowing smile.

I smile back lightly making a beeline for my bathroom. Instead of dressing the normal dull grey Abnegation attire I find some black Dauntless clothe at the very corner of my closet. I made up my mind last night that I wasn't going to stay in Abnegation. I pray that my parents won't be cross with the idea. My tee shirt is black with a small quote on it that I don't take time to read and my jeans are dark blue on the verge of black. I twist my dull blonde hair into a shiny knot on the top of my head and grab my backpack. Faction Culinary School was a sort of boarding school because after the choosing ceremony you remained in the dorms on campus. Mom already had my suitcase taken to the school with Caleb the day before seeing, as I was sick.

"Mom can we please go?" Caleb asked as his eyes skimmed my black clothe.

"Yes, Caleb we're leaving right now."

My navy blue backpack is slung over my back with my culinary books and other subject textbooks. We bid our father goodbye and I scamper out of the door, excited for my first day at Faction Culinary School.

**[PAGE BREAK]**

I make my way toward the office as Caleb told me to waving goodbye to mom as she drives away smiling at me.

"Excuse me sir I was sick yesterday. Could you possibly tell me how to choose my faction?" I ask the man at the counter of the office.

"Call me Bud, and yes ma'am go talk to Tori back there and she will give you instructions.

The man, Bud, points to a woman with dark hair and a few tattoos poking out through her black Dauntless shirt standing in the corner sorting papers. I walk toward the woman and she starts talking instantly.

"Welcome to FCS," the woman, Tori, says. "Dauntless I'm guessing?"

I nod my head once wondering how the woman read my mind. Maybe she attributed it to my black clothe the symbol of the Dauntless.

"The dorms are that way, the instructors should be there to direct you," Tori says pointing at the hall left of me.

"Thank you."

My first day at Faction Culinary School. I breathe in once and exhale slightly. I would learn to be a chef, just as my parents had, except I would be Dauntless.

"Hey," a tall, dark skinned and pretty girl says next to me.

"Hi." I respond holding in my shriek and only projecting it inward. She almost scared me half to death.

"My name is Christina; I didn't see you yesterday at the ceremony. I suppose you're Dauntless also?" she says quickly.

"I'm Beatrice, I was sick yesterday… I- yes I am Dauntless," I say.

I notice she is rolling a suitcase. She probably didn't bring her clothing yesterday.

"Oh this?" she says jutting her head toward the bright pink striped suitcase she carries. "I couldn't bring this today because my hands were full with my other suitcase."

"How many suitcases did you _bring_," I ask my eyebrows risen.

"Four and a bag," she says nonchalantly.

"That's absolutely insane," I say laughing. The words taste odd in my mouth, but not bad, odd in a good kind of new way.

She laughs with me while we make our way to the dorms. We walk in and Christina points out all the Dauntless I'll be learning with at Faction Culinary School. Peter- the dark haired boy, Molly, Uriah, Marlene, Al, Will, Drew, Edward, Myra and Lynn. Two older young men stand in the corner of the dorm watching us with an air of superiority. One has dark greasy hair with multiple piercings in his lip; his look is painfully superior as if his sole purpose is to say he is the better person. The Dauntless look makes me shiver. The over young man looks different, in a good way, he was short dark brown hair, a spare upper lip and full lower lip, and dark blue eyes with patches of lighter blue; it is a dreaming, sleeping, waiting color. His eyes are so deep-set that his eyelashes touch under the skin of his eyebrows.

"Another initiate?" the older boy with piercings asks.

"What's your name?" the blue-eyed boy asks. He sees my conflicted look and slightly smiles.

Beatrice just doesn't sound Dauntless. Dauntless in the way of black clothing, colorful tattoos, and multiple piercings. I nod at the boy with multiple piercings and think of a new name.

"Tris," I say confidently hoping Christina will make no comment on my newfound name.

"Tris," he says cocking his head his eyes thoughtful. "Welcome to Dauntless Faction Culinary School."

**A/N: New fanfic! I was having some writers-block on the **_**Saving Camp Faction**_** so I decided to clear my mind by writing a bit of different fanfiction. A shoutout to my bro because he gave me the idea! Please Read & Review! If you have any ideas for SCF please do tell.**

**Can you guys do me a favor? (especially my non-American readers) The Allegiant Tour is still going on and I would be grateful if you could go vote for Texas? Please? It's quite easy actually, just look up Allegiant Tour voting and you'll find it fairly quickly. Thank you in advance.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

I don't own Divergent!

**TRIS  
****  
**"Let's go through a subtle introduction initiates," the multiple piercings boy says. "I am your instructor Eric."

The piercings boy- Eric- nods at the dark blue-eyed boy and he clears his throat.

"I'm your instructor Four." His voice is deep, rumbling a pleasurable sound that I would enjoy listening to at leisure. Four, what a peculiar name. It suits him though, the aura of mystery goes along with a number as a name.

Eric gestures for us "initiates" to introduce ourselves.

We go around in a circle. First Uriah, the tall handsome dark skinned boy. His tone is comical, and I can see he is a goof, amusing people. Marlene is next a girl who is pretty and stares at Uriah with an adoring expression, and following her is Lynn the stoic who seems as blank as the white wall she is leaning against for support. Dark haired Peter, angular Molly, and orange-haired Drew appear to be friends although Peter is the apparent leader of the clique. Will is tall and blonde and Christina who stands next to me takes in every word he says staring at his celery green eyes. Al is a large. I don't think he could be sixteen, but if he's here then he is because there are only sophomore initiates, the rest are juniors and seniors.

I am standing next to Al so after his introduction it's my turn.

"My name is Tris," I say trying to pull some confidence into my voice.

I hear a few people snicker "Stiff" and I scowl. At home I do not scowl, but the Dauntless are free with a plethora of emotions so I although myself to act as they do. Next to me, Christina introduces herself and Eric nods once.

"Today is an intro day. You will be shown the Dauntless Compound by Four here and will begin your classes at noon. This is not your normal schedule. Keep in mind that this is still a high school. Your culinary classes are longer though, and deeper delve into the fine art," Eric say biting his lip occasionally turning the rings with his tongue.

"Wait, so that means you guys will have classes also?" Peter asks his eyebrows raised in question.

"Yes, we are seniors so we are allowed to watch over initiates coming into Dauntless," Four says in a tone that suggests Peter is testing him in some way.

"Who teaches our culinary classes?" Christina says twirling a piece of hair around her index finger.

"Chef Max and Tori," Four says. I can't help but shiver as he runs a slim fingered hand through his dark hair.

"He's kind of cute, Four not Eric," Christina whispers in my ear.

I feel blush creeping up my jaw line and around to my cheekbones. She saw me staring hopefully he didn't though.

"But I think Will is..." she sighs lost in thought on her new crush.

Girls like Christina quick to talk and girly- I'm guessing she was Candor or her parents were- navigate boys at ease. As for me, well... Abnegation people don't own things or are intimate with even family.

"Tris come here please," Eric says in a pompous tone.

I walk toward him giving Christina a questioning look, but she only shrugs her shoulders with her eyebrows creased. Eric jerks his head toward Four and I walk to him instead.

"Yes?"

"It seems that you weren't there yesterday at the Choosing Ceremony," he says his head cocked thoughtfully.

"Yeah, I was sick." I say nervously ready for some sort of chastisement.

"Ok just wondering," he says. He throws me a quick smile, thin and flitting, but still a smile. It happens so fast I don't think I saw correctly. However, I know it wasn't a trick of the light because when I walk back to Christina I hear his quiet voice, "see you in class Tris."

**[PAGE BREAK]**

"_Oh my God_, _please_ tell me this is the right way," Christina moans checking the halls numbers.

"Eric said it was next to the cafeteria," Will says looking down at his papers and adjusting his backpack.

"Heyo guys! Need help? My bro is in Four's and Eric's year I know my way around," Uriah says bumping my shoulder with his.

I force myself not to shy away from his touch. Dauntless are free, they are brave. The school as it seems isn't only bent on teaching culinary works, but also on virtues. As if they at a separate society and government than the outside world.

Al lags behind us his backpack slung over one shoulder. I made friends today, Christina, Will, Al, Marlene- although not present- and Uriah. I hope they do not disappoint me.

"Tris, come on class is this way!" Christina yells into my ear while I daze off.

Christina made no comment on my newfound name and for that, I am grateful.

"Hm? Oh yeah," I stutter out.

She conspicuously wags her long index finger to a room labeled _#46 CC_. I glance down at the schedule Four handed out to us before he allowed us to find our way before he left for class. All four of us strut into the classroom to find ten separate kitchen areas each adorned with cooking utensils, ovens, spices, herbs, fridges, and other culinary items. The ovens are shiny white, the floors black charcoal. Tori from earlier in the morning, winks at me and smiles a friendly smile. She seems to be the chef instructing this class. Cooking at first period, what a treat. I was hoping I would be able to spark up my culinary works at the peak of the morning.

"Mmk class," Tori choruses several times before everybody quiets down.

The only people I know are the people in my dorm although I do know that there are many other students or "initiates" as Dauntless calls them. Christina gestures for me to sit next to her at the small format of desks near the front of the room. I assume my seat next to her and see a sandy-haired boy with bright fluorescent green eyes glancing at me a couple of times. _Be Dauntless_.

"Hi, I'm Tris," I say waving keeping my hand close to my chest.

"Hey, I'm Grayson," the sandy-haired boy says.

"Nice to meet you," I say politely.

He flashes me a winning smile that would win over any flamboyant girl, except I'm not one of those girls. I turn back to Christina hoping that the embarrassment of my thoughts does not show in color on my cheeks.

"Whoa Four is teaching DCC? Will breaths out fixing his gaze on the front of the room.

I turn my body so that I can see. Just as Will said, Four is at the front of the room talking to Tori. His eyes flicker to us students momentarily and my gaze locks with his- and then the moment is over.

I wonder how experienced Four is in the culinary arts. Does he take it as seriously as I do when I learn? Curiousness, it has always been my downfall.

"Today will be an intro day," Tori says- the same words Eric voiced earlier. "We will go through the basics of cutting, dicing, washing, frying, baking, and a plethora of other steps that I pray you are ready to be exposed to," Tori says a light smile on her face the whole time she talks.

We all smile preparing our inner chef to shine through.

"However, today since you are new initiates I will allow you to cook your lunch since it is past noon already. Remember this is not your normal schedule so do not become accustomed to it."

Christina turns to me excitedly. Will comes over and so do Al and Uriah.

"I'm guessing we're all cooking together?" I say my eyes skimming over our little group that has formed.

"Um yeah!" Uriah says pumping his fist and scampering over to a kitchen area that has not been taken.

We all acquire our aprons and decide what to create. We all decide on pizza. Simple, easy and something we all feel like eating.

"The usual prep time is two hours, but I think we should be able to be faster considering we have five people," Will says grabbing a recipe book from his backpack.

I'm not sure we are allowed to use a recipe book, but considering it _is_ intro day, I guess its fine.

"Oh and class! Four here is my sous-chef here!" Tori calls out.

Four is a sous-chef, wow. He is allowed to be second-in-command in the kitchen.

"Christina boil the water! And Uriah gather the other ingredients," I say.

When it comes to the kitchen, I'm Dauntless all the way.

**[PAGE BREAK]**

"Wow this is pretty good! _Hell_, it's hot!" Uriah says grabbing a slice of the pizza after we let it cool down a bit.

We all retrieve plates and start digging in. The pizza is slightly messy the pepperoni different shapes the sausage on top of the bell peppers, but the smell is tantalizing. I reach out, grab a slice, and bite into it examining how well it was cooked. The crust is crunchy but soft in the inside and the tomato sauce was spread over perfectly, not too much just enough. Overall, the pizza was cooked well, but it could've been cooked better if we took more time.

"This is pretty good," Christina, says taking a tentative bite.

Four looms over all of us watching, sometimes coming over to help give advice. He must feel lonely, in a room full of sophomore initiates.

"Four," I say calling him over. I almost slap myself because of doing that.

"Yeah, Tris?" he asks a slight smile on his face.

_He's just a senior Tris, not a monster, just talk. _

"Um want a piece? Just wondering if you were hungry looking at all this food-"

"Sure I'll have a slice," he says a smile prickling at the edge of his lips.

_Just a senior_, I remind myself.

He takes the slice I hand him and bites into it. He chews thoughtfully and them opens his mouth to speak.

"Very good actually. Could be slightly cleaner and I would've added slightly more cheese, but overall good," he says to me. "But, I think you already knew all the problems."

For no reason my cheeks flush and I nod rapidly. Yes, I did know what we did wrong. All except for his preference on cheese though.

The bell rings and I check my schedule. Biology is next. All five of us walk out of the room and head to our next class.

**A/N: I really didn't notice what I got myself into until I wrote this chapter. The research on culinary school is going to be endless although it is very fun to write. There is so much I just don't know about cooking. Please tell me what you think! Read & Review!**

**-TFW  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three******

**I don't own Divergent!******

**TRIS****  
**  
I can't concentrate correctly in Biology. My mind is hardwired on a culinary schedule that doesn't leave my mind until I sleep.

"Hello, my name is Mrs. Matthers. I am your Biology teacher this year. "We will be dissecting and well let's just say learning Biology."

The whole class chuckles at that part. I scan the classroom taking in my surroundings. The biology room is like our culinary class in a different scientific sort of way. There are five desks formatted in five rows each with five desks assigned to each row. In the back of the room, there are six black lab tables with silver sinks in the middle of the table the nozzle shaped like a double helix, which is comical considering it is a Biology room.

"As I'm sure most of your teachers have been saying, this is an intro day, I'll assign your seats right now and after I'll let you read over this packet of class I'll hand out I you," Mrs. Matthers says.

She starts calling out names and assigning seats. Christina ends up at the second table next to Will and sitting across and diagonal from Lynn and a girl named Emily. I sit at the fourth table next to Uriah and diagonal from Marlene and across from the CC boy Grayson.

"Hey Tris-o! Miss me from those small five seconds we haven't seen each other?" Uriah asks me playfully raising his eyebrows in a flirtatious manner.

"Oh of _course_ Uriah, I almost resorted to _crying_," I say rolling my eyes.

It is easier to talk to people that are talkative already. If I were forced to be Dauntless with a class of all former Abnegation, I wouldn't be the person to make an impression on anybody. However, I am Dauntless now and I am determined to be a legitimate one.

"I didn't know you were funny Tris-o! We're gonna be _awesome_ friends," he says his fingers skimming the cool black table.

He turns away and engages himself in a conversation with Marlene who I can see enjoys every second of it. I make a mental note to confirm with her if she likes him. Uriah points out a boy and girl kissing and says they're in our dorm but were late. Edward and Myra. My nose wrinkles at the intimate gesture although something in me wonders what being kissed feels like.

Grayson keeps his fluorescent green gaze on me and I try to pretend that I don't see him from my peripheral as I wave at Christina who wears a smug smile as she turns her attention to Will.

"I like your shirt," Grayson says.

"Huh? Oh thanks," I say glancing down at my shirt. Once again, I don't take the time to read the quote, and Grayson's attempt at conversation dies.

"Mrs. Matthers? What does this mean?" A boy at table six says and Mrs. Matthers goes to see what he's asking.

She slides us all packets on her way and I start reading mine. It's a brief introduction of what we're doing this year and the requirements for class. I stuff the packet into my binder and pull out some paper.

"Excuse me Mrs. Matthers?" A voice asks from the general direction of the door.

Four comes striding in accompanied by a boy I expect to be Uriah's brother considering the devilish smiles they exchange after a couple of foreign hand gestures. Uriah confirms to me that it is his brother Zeke and that he is much better than him in everything.

"Could we borrow somebody to help us get some forms? Just any softie," Zeke says spreading his arms. "Mrs. Corbett requested someone from the magnificent Mrs. Matthers class."

Mrs. Matthers laughs and points at somebody. I don't notice until Uriah elbows me that she pointed to me.

"Tris, is it? Go with Mr. Four and Mr. Zeke," she says. Uriah groans that he wanted to go.

I'm not about to protest so I stand up and walk over to Four and Zeke.

"Hey hey aren't you a cute little initiate? All scared face and new black clothe," Zeke says flipping a lock of hair that came out from my bun.

I laugh nervously smoothing down my hair conscientiously.

"Hey Zeke don't mess with my initiate," Four says smacking his arm.

"_Ooh _I see how it is!" Zeke exclaims.

I have no idea what he is talking about "what he sees" so I don't say anything. I try to cool off my blush stained cheeks with the back of my hands. As we walk out of the lab, Zeke and Four start conversing about initiation.

"Any of them cook well? How was watching CC?" Zeke asks Four.

"Eric has been giving me _hell _every minute he can, but other than that it's good. I mean they all cook very well considering they got into FCS. Tris here is quite good actually," Four says gesturing to me at the end.

I blush and shake my head. "I'm not half as good as you."

"You never have seen me cook."

"I just had a feeling since you are sous-chef," I say.

"She's right man, Mr. Sous-chef supreme," Zeke says.

We walk into the office that I was at earlier in the morning and Four grabs a large stack of documents and passes them to Zeke. Zeke passes them to me and I almost fall over.

"Careful there Tris," Four says leaning over to steady me. Zeke winks at Four.

"What?" He asks. Zeke just smiles at him.

God, he is almost worse than Uriah is. I see vividly now how they are related.

"So what do you think of FCS?" Zeke asks me grabbing his own stack of papers.

"It's pretty cool, I like Dauntless. I don't know how Caleb could've chosen Erudite," I say straightening a paper.

"Who's Caleb? Your boyfriend?" Zeke says wiggling his eyebrows.

"No, he's my brother. He transferred to Erudite." I roll my eyes.

"Ah, sometimes you just don't know people," Four says sounding slightly philosophical.

**[PAGE BREAK]**

My classes end up more or less the same way CC and Biology went. Slightly interesting introductions, packets and schedules, voiced expectations, and the come and go joke from Uriah with a lecture following suit. By the time the day has ended, I am exhausted and mildly homesick.

"Tris, come let's go to the Training Room!" Christina shouts to me just as I am about to take off shoes. "I heard that the ovens are top notch in there."

I laugh briefly before standing to follow her and Will. When we get to the room, my jaw drops. The Training Room is a gigantic version of the CC room. The layout is strikingly similar although everything seems just a bit more breathtaking than the CC room.

"Hey Tris," Uriah greets me already turning on one of the stoves.

"Hey."

I stare in awe a while before thinking about what to cook first.

"Standing there gawking won't get you any food," a voice says behind me.

"Four?"

"Hey, just because I'm an instructor doesn't mean I don't have equal right to use the Training Room," he says defensively.

"T-That's not what I meant! I was just… oh God…"

"Go cook."

I stare up at him in question. A quirky half smile hangs on his lips and I feel heat spread throughout me. _If you want to be Dauntless, show off some of your talent._ Show off my talent? I could very well do that.

**A/N: I'm setting the whole atmosphere so bear with the diminutive culinary scenes I have. Has anybody seen the new stills? By the Angel, they are absolutely **_**beautiful**_**! FOURTRIS. My mom called my bro a mundane. I was on the ground cracking up because only my brother and I understood it. Ah, he's a mundie. Read & Review! Thanks for reviews, favs, follows, & such!**

**P.S. –CC means Culinary Class if you didn't catch that.**

**-TFW**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four******

**I don't own Divergent!******

**Tris**  
  
"I bet Four couldn't even cook like _that _when he was a softie!" Zeke whistles lowly, awe apparent in his voice.

"I bet I _could've_," Four grumbles watching my hands fly over the multiple pans that are on the stove.

"Christina could you possibly hand me the sugar?" I ask wiping my brow quickly.

A hand hovers over me with a small bag of browned sugar. I grab it sprinkling the contents directly over the second pan and wait for about five seconds.

"Oh man, did you hear her?"Could you possibly?" Oh jeez Tris-o! Lighten up a bit!" Uriah says taking the contents of his cooking out of the oven.

"Sure Uriah, and what did you cook exactly?" I ask glancing over at him careful not to leave my pans unattended to so that they might burn or topple.

"Um, personally I don't even know," he mutters.

I make a pointed look at Zeke. "How'd he get into FCS exactly? This is top-notch."

Four laughs and I find my mouth twitching at having made someone laugh. At home, we don't laugh, well not much, we were too busy being selfless to indulge ourselves in leisure time, much less take the time to crack a decent joke.

"I told you she was funny," Uriah smirks although he's masking a slight frown.

"Hey Tris? Do you know where Will went?" Christina asks an oven away from me.

"He said something about sugar earlier... Where is the sugar?" I ask searching.

I stand on my tiptoes opening up the cabinets and scan the bottles. It's peculiar because I scarcely just used it and it has disappeared.

"Uriah? Do you have any sugar?"

Uriah shakes his head staring into the oven's blazing warmth. His face is illuminated with the fire playing over the sharp planes of his face.

"_Anyone_?" I exclaim in frustration.

Will abruptly scampers into the Training Room door and smiles sheepishly as he sees everyone gaze at him expectantly. I catch Christina glancing over at him more than once after all of us briefly acknowledged him.

"Couldn't find any sugar," Will says searching the pantry that is in the left corner of the room.

"How am I supposed to cook pancakes without sugar?" I ask.

"Well what about the ones that are cooking now? Are they sugar free?" Zeke says patting his knee idly.

"No, I had sugar but then it disappeared. I need to make more batter," I say frustrated.

I'm glad I can show my frustration here, and it isn't frowned upon as being selfish.

"Do we need to go on a sugar hunt? Because Tris's pancakes look like the best goddy pancakes I have ever encountered," Uriah says shutting the oven and pressing a couple buttons. "I totally want one."

I roll my eyes, but nod. "If you could possibly find the sugar I'll give you five pancakes."

"Zeke! She offered me _five_ of 'em! Come on! Let's go find the sugar!" He says excited tugged at his older brother's shirtsleeve.

I turn my attention to my pans, flip one pancake over, and remove another one to rest on a plate.

"You needed sugar right?" Four asks.

"Yeah."

"Ok, just making sure," he says. I can't help notice his voice again. It seemed to stay as if he had just woken up and was barely aware of his surroundings even when it is more than half way into the day. It sounds nice.

"Are you just going to stand there?" I ask a creasing appearing between my eyebrows.

"Would you like me to leave?" He asks.

"Question with a question," I say matter-of-factly.

His mouth quirks again as he turns away from me. I sigh, flipping another pancake. They do smell delicious; I had to admit to myself.

Two of my pans are vacant and I pour a circle of batter into them forgetting the new batch I made didn't contain any sugar. A growl of frustration reverberates from my mouth slightly startling even myself.

"You know… The batter would taste so much better if you added this," Four says behind me holding a fancy bag labeled "CANE SUGAR". "You never actually asked me directly if I had they sugar."

My jaw drops. "Oh _my_ God, Four are you serious?"

I hear Christina chuckle, but she walks out of the room before I take a chance to say anything to her.

"Well you didn't!" he says emphatically.

He doesn't act like he carries a overburdening sense of authority right now as he did in the morning when he was introducing himself along with Eric, he acts like he should, being a senior. He hands me the bag the godforsaken half-quirk smile written all over his face.

I add sugar to my batter and then decide to restart the whole thing because there is barely any left anyway. I allow the room to fall into a silence that signifies that I'm not happy.

"If it makes you feel any better I feel bad," Four says sitting backwards on a chair running a hand through his dark hair.

"It does," I admit.

I dump an oval of sweet-smelling batter in my second pan and watch as it sizzles becoming a solid object opposed to a liquid one. I flip another pancake over accidentally charring the middle.

"Are you waiting for an apology?" He asks wearily biting the bottom of his lip.

I need to make an impression. _You don't get anywhere in Dauntless without making an impression_, Christina said earlier in an offhand manner. It wasn't a piece of vital advice she was offering me although I am taking it as one. Just because I'm a sophomore, an initiate- a small one at that- doesn't make me incapable and weak.

Four was joking, I know he was, but something in me wants to find out if making an impression will actually work.

"Ok Tris, I, Four, your almighty instructor apologize for hiding your sugar when you so _direly_ required it," he says exaggerating each word.

"That wasn't _sincere_, but ah I accept your apology," I say turning another pancake over.

"Well you're quite hard to please," he grumbles.

Uriah comes running back in with a lazy-looking Zeke behind him.

"I found some... Oh, well that was a waste of time!" Uriah exclaims holding an identical bag of cane sugar.

"Sorry Uriah l acquired some," I say raising my eyebrows and glancing at Four.

"May I have my pancakes now?" Uriah asks innocently. He bats his dark eyelashes and juts out his lower lip in a pout.

"Yes, Uriah you can have _six _pancakes," I say.

"I'm gonna _faint_ Zeke! _Food_! Oh my freaking... _Food_!" He jumps up and down wildly.

"How are you so freaking energetic?" Christina asks him sitting in a chair next to Will.

"This isn't even half of it," Zeke says rolling his eyes. "_Trust _me."

Four still sits in his metal chair backwards his feet on both sides. He seems to be thinking deeply about a sudden thought because when I push a stack of pancakes in front of him he appears to be startled.

"Sorry, do you not want any? I thought you might've-"

"I want them," he says the quirky smile present.

I flush thinking of the same situation that occurred in the morning. The morning seems like a week ago.

"Tris Prior would you like to cook for me every single day of my life?" Uriah asks shoving the pancakes in his face.

"No thank you Uriah."

He fakes a pout but then globs a mountain full of syrup on his pancakes and scoops them into his mouth. I smirk and take the only seat left next to Four.

"Would you like me to analyze this little culinary experiment also?" Four asks neatly cutting his stack of three in half.

The die-hard chef part of me wants to know every single flaw in my cooking- and told how to perfect it-, but the other part of me is just frankly exhausted and craves some praise. Nevertheless, I nod my head curtly leaning forward slightly in anticipation. Four cuts a small piece out of the stack his blue gaze flickering to my face, the pancakes, and back again. He unceremoniously shoves the slice into his mouth and chews thoughtfully. I feel as if I'm experiencing déjà vu.

The quirky smile is back and before he talks, he rakes a hand through his already mussed hair. "I'm not one to exaggerate-" I snort. His mouth quirks into a higher smile. "But this is an exceptional piece of culinary work."

I withhold my desire to utterly sit down and beam with pleasure because my instructor enjoyed my "piece of culinary work".

"The sugar content is near perfect, the pancakes are sweet enough without syrup- well not in _Uri's _opinion- but this is quite good for a sophomore. Not that I'm suggesting sophomore can't cook," he says. "On another plus side they are fluffy and light although this one's middle is slightly charred from not flipping fast enough I suppose?"

I inwardly groan at giving him the one that I burned.

"I- Yes, not fast enough," I agree. "Thank you for your candor on my cooking though, I enjoy total honesty on how I performed."

"No prob." His mouth quirks. "I'm a Candor now?"

**[PAGE BREAK]**

After finishing my breakfast for dinner all of us initiates herd back to the dorms exhausted from our intro day. Christina talks to me about the schedule tomorrow and how after classes we should go to the shops together. I agree although I'm not entirely awake at the moment. Four and Zeke parted ways- Zeke to his dorm room and Four trailing behind us following us to the dorms.

"I suggest sleep for all of you initiates because tomorrow will be a hell of a day if you don't," Four says departing with a placid expression.

I decide to take Four's advice to mind and immediately head to the showers. I clean myself up and get dressed. My thoughts are turning slow and my eyes droop as if I might fall asleep any second. I luckily stumble upon my bed and as my head hits the pillow, I'm out discovering the variety of hues that the color black is capable to possess.

**A/N: Culinary, culinary, and culinary. Read & Review! Please, do enjoy and tell me what you think. Ideas are always welcome.**

**P.S. - **_**"Like calls to like." **_**If you know, what character says those words then you deserve some Dauntless cake.**

**-TFW**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five******

**I don't own Divergent!******

**Four****  
**  
My fingers skim across the pantry door debating on if to open it. The lock clicks open and I step inside blinking rapidly to adjust my vision. Out of my peripheral, I can see the red target I am looking for so I grab it in between my index finger and middle finger and slide it under my arm. Just between the small chalkboard and the fire alarm is where I position the target. I scour the drawers searching for my throwing knives. The sleek metal and slightly serrated edges catch my eyes, and I grab them breathing out a loud sigh.

I should be asleep because classes starts at 7:30 for me tomorrow, but I have the odd urge to throw something mixed up with mental insomnia.

"Ok," I say under my breath.

The Training Room is for cooking, but being a Dauntless room, I try my hand at training myself to throw knives- or a punch. I inhale, aim, exhale, and release. The knife hits almost dead center. If I hadn't hit the dead center so many times, I would mistake this throw for a perfect one, but no, I've practiced throwing knives since I was an initiate. I inhale once again, exhale, and throw the knife. A low thump emits from metal hitting wood and it releases some stress building up in my temples.

Eric had been giving me hell all day because we had to collaborate to instruct initiates. It was pure torture to even try to get along with him, but I did it for the sake of our new initiates.

_Wouldn't want Eric instructing them alone._

_In addition_, I was telling myself to "be the better man" the whole day so I wouldn't beat the crap out of him.

I throw another knife not exactly aiming, but it hits the target few inches of to the left, but not into the walls where it would leave a nasty mark. I retrieve the knives and the target glancing at the chair I was sitting in earlier. My mouth quirks slightly thinking of how Tris probably thought I was intimidating. I hope that all of the initiates thought the same. I need to remain to be taken seriously by them. I can't instruct when people don't take my words seriously.

When I make my way back to my room I change into a pair of basketball shorts and a black tee shirt flopping myself down on my bed. Zeke lives next door and I'm assuming he's still awake by the loud gaming sounds that are emitted through my wall. I grab my phone skimming through any texts I have and logging into the cooking article I was reading earlier. I check the time and it's 2:00 in the morning.

"Oh God, I should sleep," I say to myself clicking off the light switch that resides at the right of the head of my bed.

**[PAGE BREAK]****  
**  
I shake off the beads of water nestled in my hair from showering, straighten my black jacket and adjust my backpack so that it slings off on one shoulder. I briskly speed walk out of my apartment room minding the time seeing as I have fifteen minutes until my physical training class.

"Hey bro," Zeke says holding out his hand for me to clasp it.

We do the guy handshake thing and walk to class together.

"Want to go to the Pit later? Heard they have some wicked throwing knives, plus some cheap top notch culinary gear," Zeke says conversationally.

"Sounds good to me," I respond.

"Do you have to help CC every day?"

"Yeah, it's not that bad actually. I get some pretty good food too," I say my mouth turning up remembering Tris's nervous approach yesterday.

She's bright, a natural actually in culinary. From the snickers I've heard from Peter's little clique she's a Stiff- former Abnegation. She's small- petite- with bright blue eyes tinged with grey and slightly wavy blonde hair.

"Hey Four," a flirtatious voice says behind me.

I feel long fingers burning through my jacket on my right shoulder and the flirtatious purr humming at my ear.

"Hey Eva," I say not unkindly. Eva likes me, but I don't like her. I'm not a jerk about it to her though. I still act normal not as if she's a crazy person-, which she's not- just a girl head-over-heels for the wrong person.

Zeke winces in front of me and I shoot him a look.

"What's up?" I ask.

"Not much, just classes," I say.

"Well I was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie at the Pit tomorrow."

Tomorrow is Saturday, I was expecting a day of looming over the initiates, and Eric to make sure they don't make fools of himself, herself, or anything like that.

"Sorry Eva no, I have initiates to watch too," I say. I don't act like I want to go, but I don't portray that I'm _utterly _sorry that I couldn't.

_Better man, Four.__  
_  
"Oh..." Her face falls and I feel a twinge of guilt. "It's ok I understand."

"Have a nice day," I say after departing with her.

Zeke stays silent for a while as we maneuver the halls being crushed in between countless Dauntless. Screams and hoots sound across the blue-lit hallways. Seniors smashing into lockers, junior guys talking up girls, sophomores looking lost as hell.

"I don't see how you can be so freaking nice while rejecting her," Zeke says dramatically.

"I don't want to be mean to her. I just- you know, don't like her like _that_," I say.

"Well man I wish I had that skill," he sighs.

"See you in CC bro," I say clapping his back.

He flicks his chin up and flashes me the grin he calls his "lady-winning" smile. I roll my eyes and head off to Physical Training.

**[PAGE BREAK]****  
**  
"Four would you like to run the drills for the sophomores today? They come here after CC at 11:30," Coach Hernandez asks me.

I stop at eighty push-ups and glance up wiping my forehead with my hand once. The black floor is cool and I lay my forearms across the ground although it appears slightly odd.

"Sophomore CC?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sous-chef in sophomore CC, well the one that Chef Tori teaches," I tell him.

"What period do you have after that?" He asks interest peaked when I said sous-chef.

Coach Hernandez likes me anyway because when I was a sophomore I beat up two other people that were larger than I was and since then his opinion has reached up further.

"Free period," I say.

"Would you like to? It would help me out a lot. Extra service hours too," he says. His tone tells me he really needs some help and he wants me to help so my resolve for relaxing at free period cracks.

"Sure, I will. What do you want me to help with exactly?" I ask.

Out of my peripheral, I see a group of girls staring at me as Coach speaks, and I feel my neck flush red.

"Drills, different sort of stuff, don't worry it won't be bad," he says clapping me on the back a little roughly.

"Yes, sir."

Physical Training ends more or less on the same note it usually does with girls staring and guys glaring.

"Hey Four don't forget your bag!" Lauren, my friend, yells throwing me my gym bag.

I yell back a thanks and streak toward the CC room. I can't be late, that would allow the initiates to doubt that they need to arrive punctually. As I stride into the room, I see Peter's clique chatting quietly in the back corner of the room and Tris alone writing something on a single piece of notebook paper. Tris glances up and her stormy eyes flicker to mine meeting briefly before she looks down again. I detect a slight reddening of her cheeks although it could possibly be my imagination. Chef Tori isn't present in the room so I set my things aside next to the small desk that resides by Chef Tori's desk.

I sit down backwards on the matching wooden chair of the desk and stare out the window. Out of my trained peripheral, I notice Tris glancing at me before hiding her face by looking down again. I stand up and tread over carefully to see what's up. She doesn't notice me and after awhile of watching over her shoulder I say "hey".

**Tris****  
**  
"Oh, Four, hey," I say startled and confused.

"What's up?" He asks.

Crap, he probably saw my eyes flickering to him. I was involuntarily doing that, my eyes just kept repetitively glancing over.

"Just... Doodling," I say hoping that it doesn't sound stupid.

"Sounds cool," he says grabbing a chair and sitting backwards in it.

"Is that the only way you sit in a chair?" I ask him.

"Huh? It's a habit I guess," he says his mouth quirking.

He's probably wondering why I'm such a lonely Stiff. Christina was sent to get some paperwork from the office and Will, Uriah, and the others just haven't arrived yet.

"_Funny _habit," I mumble.

He grins. His cheeks are flushed a bright red, from what I don't know and his dark hair is mussed sticking out oddly- not weird though- just odd. The black shirt he wears clings to him as if he just worked out.

"Physical Training," he says watching me look at him. I feel my cheeks heat with a rose-colored blush. "I'm actually going to help with your Physical Training next period."

"You are?" I ask. Now I would see him in another class.

"Yeah Coach asked me earlier."

I nod my head acknowledging what he says.

"So what you doodling there?" He asks me leaning in closer to acquire a better view.

"Uh… nothing," I say snatching at the paper and sliding it fluidly across the desk before he can see my random drawings.

"Come on Tris, I've tested two of your culinary experiments but you won't let me see your doodles?" he asks sighing over dramatically.

"Basically… yes," I reply hiding my smirk projecting it inwardly.

"Well I'm your instructor, I demand to see it," he taking on a more serious tone.

"Yeah you're my instructor, not my art teacher," I say smirking now.

"What an infuriating initiate you are," he says rolling his eyes and standing up.

From my peripheral, I see Tori standing at her desk sorting through a large stack of papers and Four says "later Tris" taking long strides over to her.

**[PAGE BREAK]**

"Physical Training, what do we do in there? Train for the Olympics?" Uriah asks as we advance toward the physical training room.

"Room _#55_ and yeah Uri it's where we train for the big leagues," Will responds grinning.

In CC Tori just went over the basics of chopping and cutting and most of the class breezed through the short lesson- especially me.

"Where'd the energetic Uriah go? Did we lose him, because you don't seem to be jumping off walls," Christina asks Uriah.

Uriah smirks quirking his mouth up slightly. "Thursday's are always my _highly_ immature days, life would be no fun without them," He laughs.

"You would be no fun without them," I correct him.

He nods bumping my shoulder with his and grinning wildly.

"Come my friends, this way," Will directs us to the right and into a large gymnasium.

Christina whistles lowly at the vastness of the room. There is a stage, a medium size boxing rink, targets for throwing knives, punching bags, a closet open exposing the neat rows and racks of basketballs, soccer balls, baseballs with bats, and other sports equipment.

"Oh my God, this place is awesome," Uriah, says his jaw dropped.

My eyes are wide, but I don't say anything. This next to Training Room, the best room in the Dauntless Compound. The equipment is magnificent and high quality material.

"Who teaches Physical Training?" Christina asks me bumping my shoulder abruptly and startling me out of my shock induced daze.

"Uh oh-"

Four comes out of an office like room in the front of the room wiping off water from his head with a towel slung over his neck; his hair is still boyishly mussed. Christina leans into me and whispers, "Oh my God, if it weren't for Will…" I feel my blood rush to my cheeks and around my jaw line at her comment about Four, for what reason I don't know. Probably because of my conservative upbringing, I act this way.

"Hey Tris, Will, Christina, Uri, welcome to the Arena. Almost as beautiful as the Training Room isn't it?" he says smiling slightly shaking the water from his head.

"Took a shower?" Uriah asks.

"Yeah didn't feel good after CC, just needed to clear my head a bit," he responds easily to Uriah.

What a plus having your instructor being best friends with your brother.

"Who teaches Physical Training?" Will asks the same question Christina queried a moment ago.

"Well Coach Fernandez does, but he asked me to help because- I actually don't know- but yeah he teaches PT- and no not Physical Therapy- Physical Training."

It's funny to hear the words "I don't know" come from Four because he seems like the aching authority all knowing type. Not in sadistic way, just mysterious, quietly intimidating except when he examines my cooking, he lightens up then.

"We didn't have PT yesterday," Christina says her tone hinted with question.

"Intro day, it's always mixed up on the first day of classes. Today is actual class schedule," he says scratching at his neck and walking around his long fingers caressing the sharp slightly serrated knives hung up on the walls.

"So what are we doing in here?" Will asks.

Uriah smirks at something and I elbow him because I want to know also.

"Coach told me some running drills and then you could pick a sport to play because he doesn't feel up to drilling today," Four says.

"Basketball, definitely basketball," Uriah says lunging for a ball that sits on a black wheeling rack.

"I don't know how to play basketball," I say after Christina hoots a "yes!"

"Don't worry Tris-o," we'll teach you Will tells me patting my shoulder.

"Basketball is utterly legit," Uriah says bouncing the basketball with his left hand and simultaneously switching it to his right hand. "I think you'll be a good point guard, short people are good at maneuvering the basketball court."

"Hey I'm not _that _short!" I say indignantly.

"Pretty short, Tris," Four comments from behind me.

"Didn't ask your opinion Four," I shoot back.

There's a sudden hush, and I notice Christina holding her breath.

_Ah, she expects a scolding. They all do, maybe except for Uriah. Should I expect a scolding?_

Four just laughs it off and retreats back to the corner of the Arena where the targets reside.

"I thought he was going to kill you," Christina says after he's out of earshot.

"Oh um… I guess not," I say feeling awkward.

"Ah doesn't matter now I guess! Let's go teach you basketball!" she exclaims grabbing my arm.

"Ow Christina, ok just wait…"

"Hey we still have drills!" Four yells over to us although can hear his tone is an amused one.

**A/N: I actually didn't expect to write this so soon, but it just kind of came. To people that read SCF, I apologize but I can't seem to have any ideas. I'll work on it though although I quite like writing this one. Please enjoy and tell me what you think! Read & Review!**

**Random: Anyone watch A Good Day to Die Hard? Jai (our Eric) is in there and he's pretty awesome.**

**-TFW**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six******

**I don't own Divergent!******

**Tris**

They're two culinary classes every day. One scheduled near the morning and one for the last class of the day. Chef Max oversees my second CC, and although he's a trained cook, I don't feel the same eagerness to live up to his standards as I do in Chef Tori's class. Chef Max skims through the basics of seasoning a piece of meat showing us the different seasonings that are the most effective. My mother taught me how to season meat when I was twelve so this lesson isn't a completely fresh one.

"Hey, Tris, is this right?" Grayson, who sits next to me, says.

I glance over at his steak which has a painfully diminutive amount of salt neatly sprinkled on it. I wince inwardly.

"Salt is key, without enough of it you won't taste the flavor when you cook it," I say biting my lip as I finish seasoning my steak.

I am surprised he asked me. Most of the Dauntless in CC don't enjoy other people's voiced opinions and highly dislike asking for any sort of help. Being Abnegation is different, you don't ask for help you are expected to apply the help without being asked. My sudden quirky remarks here at Dauntless are still drowned out by how painstakingly Abnegation I am. I don't feel the newfound confidence I acquired earlier today.

"Thanks Tris."

Dauntless don't thank people either, but one is thanking me. This faction confuses me.

"No problem."

"Enough for today! Please clean up your area or it will be a demerit on you grade. We'll resume tomorrow and grill our steaks, _please _be prepared," Chef Max says.

He probably says this as a warning for the Dauntless who were surprised we would be seasoning a steak. Chef Max pondered to them if they were aware that this was CC and they said that they weren't.

My friends are situated on the other side of the vast room so it feels as if they aren't even in the same class. Uriah calls me over and I smile thinking of how the basketball game went earlier.

**Earlier:****  
**  
_"So inside the key three seconds, no traveling, and can't hold the ball for more than five seconds..." I say aloud trying to memorize some rules. It feels as if I'm in the kitchen memorizing another recipe so I can spend another four hours perfecting it.___

_"You'll get the hang of it after a while don't worry Tris-o," Uriah tells me.___

_"Can I just watch this first time?" I ask. I would like to see everybody's technique before attempting to play.___

_"Yeah no prob! See how the pros play you know?" He says winking at me.___

_Four made us run a mile outside before we were allowed to choose a sport to play so Christina gave me the basic rules and objectives of the sport. He ran a couple of running drills that I distinctly remember are track drills, and then made us do twenty suicides.___

_"We picking teams?" Christina asks bouncing the ball in one hand and then switching it over to her other one simultaneously, just as Uriah did.___

_"Yeah I'll take Ryan, Cass, Daren, and Marlene," Uriah says naming people who I've never met- except for Marlene.___

_I notice how brightly her face lights up when Uriah says her name. I lightly smile to myself inwardly.___

_"Mhm well I'll have Will, Al, Fernando, and uh Drew I guess," Christina says.___

_I know she isn't exactly delighted to have Drew on her team, but she quickly masks her displeasure and smiles cockily.___

_"Watch me beat the crap out of Uri," Christina grins.___

_"Oh no, no, no I am undoubtedly winning!" Uriah exclaims over exaggerating his dribbling.___

_"We need a ref... Yo Four! Ref our basketball game!" Uriah yells over to Four who is in the middle of a push up on the yoga mats laid out near the corner of the Arena.___

_"Wait a sec!" He yells back finishing another five pushups before standing up. He sprints over to us and stops abruptly on his toes.___

_"I'm betting my money on Christina's team," Four says his mouth quirking. "How about you Tris? Who's your money on?"___

_"Uh... Probably Christina's," I say.___

_I understand where he's going with this. He's teasing Uriah to make him angry so the game will be more exciting.___

_"That's not fair Four," I say to him.___

_His mouth quirks from my comment, but he doesn't respond.___

_"Four! After all these years..." Uriah touches a hand over his heart as if he's heartbroken. "I can't believe you would do this."___

_"Don't cry Uri it's for the best," Four responds.___

_Not polite, intimidating, scary, placid, or any reverberating authority, just a senior being a senior. Four has two sides, and I'm not sure which one I like more.___

_The game starts and Uriah tips the ball to Ryan and they take off down the court. Christina shuffles to go guard Uriah.___

_"I have Uriah! Call who you have!" She tells her team.___

_"Why aren't you playing Tris?" Four asks me.___

_"Watching them first. I don't know how to play entirely," I respond my eyes trained on Will who's taken the ball down the other direction of the court.___

_"Four, did you see that? He traveled! Oh my God, that was totally a travel!" Uriah yells.___

_"Uri get over it, it wasn't a travel I saw it!" He yells back.___

_Uriah frowns, but then brightens up as he snatches the ball from Al's hands. I make a pointed look at Four and raise my eyebrows.___

_"You weren't even looking. It probably was a travel," my eyes narrowing._

**Now:**

"Man CC was actually boring in this class, I totally like Chef Tori better then Chef Max," Uriah says slinging his signature Dauntless black backpack over his shoulder.

"Me too, seriously right? He can cook, but his tone- oh my God, is it monotonous," Will groans.

"I thought he was fine," Al says. Al isn't a superb cook, he is decent and I wonder how he was accepted into FCS in the first place.

"How about you Tris? What'd you think of Chef Max?" Christina asks. "I think Chef Tori is better."

Al glances at me with hopeful eyes as if he thinks I will agree with him because that is what an Abnegation person does. My face suddenly feels hot with anger at his expectation. What conflicts me is that it _was_ my first impulse to agree with him to spare him the separation of being the only one to favor Chef Max.

"He wasn't-"I see Al's expression brighten hopefully. I cringe inwardly. "As good as Chef Tori, Chef Max was pretty monotonous, like Will said."

Al's expression falls and I force myself not to feel bad. _It's just an opinion, I have my own opinion, and I am no longer Abnegation._

"Tris? Come on Tris, class is out let's go to the Pit," Christina says tugging at my arm.

I snap out of my daze blinking rapidly for a second and inhale deeply.

"Yeah coming," I reply feebly.

My head spins, I don't feel well. I feel as if I've memorized Al's crestfallen face and the pulsing victory that I felt when I was being opinionated, not utterly selfless. Maybe this is what I need to become Dauntless.

**[PAGE BREAK]**

"Whoa Al, Will look at these knives! Oh my God, these are wicked," Uriah, says his fingers dancing over the serrated edges of the knives in the Weapons Shop display.

Christina, Will, Al, and I all lean forward allowing ourselves a better view of the knife Uriah is raving over.

"I thought so too," an amused voice says behind us.

Before I am able to turn around Uriah has guessed the voice "Great minds think alike I guess, although maybe you were lucky because I'm the only great mind here."

Zeke chuckles and thwacks his brother on the head playfully although not softly.

"Ow Zeke-y that hurt," Uriah says.

"Two betrayals in one day Uri, I'm surprised you're still alive," Four says emerging from behind the crowd of bustling Dauntless.

"Yes, Zeke, Four here ripped my heart out in PT," Uriah confesses.

We all laugh and Zeke suggests that we walk down the shops in the Pit. We nod our heads in assent following Al out the door.

"We can go girl shopping later like I intended to," Christina says to me.

I nod although my strong point isn't fashion seeing that I was Abnegation.

"Can I ask something?" I say to Christina as her eyes flit to Will as she nods. "Do you like Will?"

Her cheeks heat with hot blood and she nods quickly. "Is it _that_ obvious? I've actually known him for some time…"

I smile at her embarrassment and assure that she's not obvious.

"Who do you like Tris-o?" she asks me giving me a knowing smile as if she has somebody in mind.

"Nobody," I answer quickly with embarrassment. The answer is too quick and forced because the prospect of me, a former Stiff, liking a Dauntless was too much to take in myself.

"Are you sure? That blush begs to differ," she teases me.

I bite my lip and shake my head.

"Aw I'm kidding Tris don't worry."

I catch Four's eye and his eyes glint funnily as if he's trying to say something that I don't catch. My imagination is probably acting up though. He suddenly makes his way toward Christina and I and I wonder why.

"I forgot to remind Chef Tori to tell you guys, but bring all the culinary supplies that you've brought to FCS with you tomorrow," he says hooking his thumbs through his belt loops.

"Oh ok," we both respond.

He nods curtly a brief smile at me before catching up with Zeke.

"Did he smile at you?" Christina asks.

I wince wishing that was only my imagination that it was playing in. "No, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Liar, I know you saw that."

I take two long strides in attempt to distract her and then burst off in a sprint. _Why did he smile? _I shake my head wildly ridding my thoughts of my silly imagination.

"Catch me if you can!"

**A/N: Please enjoy and Read & Review! This may be my last update until the Sunday after this Sunday (or later) because as us in the U.S. know it's the 4****th**** of July! I'm going to visit family so I probably won't update. **

**Reading reviews of Goodreads is actually very tiring because of the bad things people say about Divergent, but it can also be a quite entertaining pass time. Something is very confusing with the Allegiant Tour also…**

**P.S.- To (Guest) Annie: No I wasn't aware of that until your review, it actually had me staring for a while saying "Whoa that is pretty cool."**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven **

**I don't own Divergent!**

**Tris**

"Tris-o! Come on Tris!" Christina squalls the sound reverberating throughout the rough stone walls of the Pit. Her feet slap fully against the carved stone ground.

I jerk my head back momentarily, and spot a couple Dauntless glancing Christina's way before hooting loudly in response. I find myself lightly smiling at the sound for no apparent reason.

"Boo," a voice says quietly hot breath tickling my ear.

I jolt back startled and Uriah takes this as an opportunity to sling me over his shoulder roughly knocking all the air that is humanly possibly out of my lungs.

"Uriah! Stop, no, please," I laugh my tone tinged nervously.

Being Abnegation doesn't permit a great deal of interacting physically with people: shaking hands, hugging, a bump of the shoulder, anything of the sort is painfully novel to me. The mere thought of a hand entwined with mine sends a acute ache of illicit-ness.

"What's wrong Tris?" Uriah asks setting me down carefully.

All of my friends plus Zeke and Four have halted watching the scene carefully as if to not intrude upon anything private of the sort.

"Uh," my cheeks burn with heat, hot embarrassment. "Nothing, I'm fine."

Uriah seems to the receive message, and he doesn't touch me anymore. To avoid awkwardness he jokes; as if I've said something funny he breaks out in uncontrollable laughter. The sharp bright sound pierces my eardrums and I allow myself a brief smile to not have any suspicion arise. As we all stride forward again at our normal pace I silently thank Uriah. Dauntless training isn't only physically culinary classes it is a faction with risks; a faction with tattooed people, pierced people, and ear-splitting laughter. As much as my parents believed in Abnegation virtues, I don't regret my choice. I chose Dauntless and the risks are mine to take.

I lie in my bed smoothing the black sheets over idly with my left hand my index finger lingering slightly longer than the rest of my hand. The whole dorm is basked in a subtle hushed singularity as we all beat as one. My mind is awake. The dull buzz of sleep isn't present and my desire to cook is setting me on edge.

My mother first discovered my talent to cook was when she baked the bread she handed out to homeless people. I was five and although I've seen my mother bake bread countless times I was curious this time around. My questions were rushed in five-year-old eagerness, querying about the eggs, if I could help, how does the batter turn solid, different things. My mother coddled me seeing that I was young and eventually taught me how to bake the bread. My culinary skills advanced slowly from then on, to stirring batter to preparing dinner. Sometimes when I was restless and couldn't sleep I would sneak downstairs careful not wake anybody and cook a simple snack something to soothe me to sleep. My mother one day while preparing dinner casted a sideway glance at me smiled and shook her head slightly as if she was chiding me silently.

She said: "Bea if you want me to, I could graciously leave the light on so you wouldn't have to turn it again when you come down."

A loud snore cracks me out of my reverie and I widen my eyes attempting to adjust my eyesight to the swallowing shades of darkness. My fingers itch with anticipation, as if a board of vegetables is set in front of me and my task is to slice them fine.

Christina informed me earlier in an offhand manner that the Training Room is always unlocked and accessible at any time. At the time I thought it was unsafe for a room full of professional culinary gear to be unlocked, but now an idea takes root in my mind. The Training Room has become my new kitchen to sneak down to at night.

I sleep fully clothed unlike Christina or Edward who sleeps without shorts on and without a shirt. The only need I attend to is slipping on my sneakers. The Training Room is undoubtedly unoccupied so I silently creep down the halls treading lightly my heels lifted. The door of the Training room is solid wood a dark shade of ebony slated across a door frame. The room has no number just TRAINING ROOM in small neat letters on a identification plate residing to the left of the door. I quickly push open the door and scurry in quickly before somebody might notice me. My hand pats the wall anticipating to flick on the lights, but I don't have to because they are already on, and I am not alone.

"F-Four..."

"Tris?" He asks sternly, idly brushing a callused thumb over the slightly serrated edge of a throwing knife. I wince hoping it doesn't hurt him.

Why would he have a throwing knife here, in the Training Room?

"I'll just leave- I didn't mean to- I was-" I back up quickly making an escape route to the door.

"Why did you come here?" He asked ignoring my stammering.

"Cooking... I wanted-needed to cook," I say regaining my speech after the brief shock of embarrassment.

"Cooking? Culinary at two in the morning?" He asks me his mouth quirking slightly.

Heat rushes to my face and I try to suppress it. "Yes."

"By all means this is a culinary school, I don't think it would be appropriate for me to discourage self-improvement even if it so happens to occur at two o'clock in the morning," he says his eyes gleaming with a certain edge.

My eyebrows knit momentarily before my cheeks rush with unwanted heat, yet again.

"Don't mind me, I'll be leaving soon," he says throwing another knife at the target I notice positioned on the wall.

When I glance back at the target I notice the knife has hit dead center the point neatly lodged in the wood. Small tan shavings of wood curling around the metal of the knife. My eyes widen as I turn back trying to mind my own business.

"Pretty nice huh," he says quietly.

I look back and nod quickly. I sense his mouth quirk.

My fingers flick on the stove and the flames simultaneously melt from carrot orange to electric blue. I grab a metal pot and finger the gallon of milk. I untidily slop the milk into the pot and blink my slowly tiring eyes.

"I should get going," Four says lifting the target from the wall slinking it from a tan cord around his arm.

"To your- to sleep?" I say.

"Yeah, it's late. You should get to sleep too," he says striding into the pantry and coming out empty-handed except for the three blades neatly pushed in between his belt and the waistband of his jeans.

"I needed to- I will," I say.

Abruptly his stoic demeanor melts and his mouth quirks as if he finds something highly comical that I don't see. I crease my eyebrows slightly watching over my steaming milk.

"I find it funny that... Ah never mind."

I flick of the stove and quickly start to spin milk into a mug. He drags out the last word as if to make me curious; it works, it peaks my curiosity and stimulates questions in my mind.

"What do you find funny?" I ask quietly.

I pull out the cane sugar and spoon a lump into my cup. I pull out another green mug and do the same spooning milk in with a ladle and lumping sugar into it.

"That I'm always here when you cook something and- is that cup for me?" He asks changing subjects.

I shoot him a confused facial expression because I only made one cup of warm milk for myself. Then I notice that I did make two, and I must look particularly stupid.

"Or was it for somebody else?" He asks.

"No, I mean it's not for- yes, it's for you," I stammer.

His mouth quirks and his eyes are grinning with a sharp blue edge.

"Well, then thank you very much," he smiles leaning over to grab the mug.

He strides out the door tipping his lips toward the cup before he is out of my view. I turn around the flush still hot on my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"I like the touch of sugar," Four says backing into the room for a moment before flashing a quirky smile and scampering out the door once again.

I'm left with heat rushing through my cheeks and a blue mug of steaming milk with a touch of sugar.

**A/N: I lie, it's what I do best. Had time to write so... Here's a chapter. I don't have the SCF chapter I started so I apologize. i apologize if any grammar is incorrect because I don't have my computer. Read & Review!**

**-TFW**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

**I don't own Divergent!**

**Four**

The soft hush of silence is broken by a curious voice somewhere near the heart of the large room.

"What?" The voice echoes.

"It means you will no longer possess any of your culinary equipment. I am fully aware of what I voiced," I say roughly my throat scratchy.

Besides Uriah, Tris is the only person who doesn't cringe back at the steely tone of my voice. I see out of my peripheral Tori attempting to hide her smirk as I talk to the initiates.

"Did I hear myself? Take out the equipment," I say quietly, earning a few whimpers in return.

_Thank God, Eric isn't here. It would be far worse for them._

"Why the hell would you need to take our equipment?" Peter asks his miniature clique nodding dumbly at his side.

My head spurts with a burst of pain and I pause momentarily to assess the intensity of it before answering.

"What was that initiate?"

_As if, I didn't hear._

"I _said_ why the _hell_ do we need to hand _our_ equipment to _you_?" He spits out running his fingers along the black desk he sits at with his clique.

Tori makes a pointed look at me as if to tell me to explain our reason to him. My crown layers with a buzz of pain.

"What if you don't own the equipment you have?" I ask attempting to ignore the loud monotonous throb in my head.

"What does this have to do with anything?"

"What if you don't have the equipment you have?" I repeat ignoring his question. "Would you be good enough without fancy equipment to create a meal, cook even _half_ decently?"

The exercise Tori and I agreed on would be an effective one. As it was, it was a test. Would they be able to cook with the high-tech material that they're parents bought them before they were accepted into FCS? Culinary is an art, something you perfect and enjoy. Titles are to identify, but not to lower one's ability to cook.

Cooking is not for name and the chefs who strive for an honorary title and not for the pure pleasure of creating a work of art are sick. If these initiates are searching for titles, they had better get the _hell_ out of here because we don't want them. This is how Dauntless works, how it should work, but initiates minds have corrupted the true virtue.

Peter hushes acting as if he is preoccupied with something important.

With one pointed look from me the initiates grudgingly take out their equipment stroking them as they carefully lay knives, cutting boards, and such on their desks.

I turn to Tori and quickly mouth "infirmary" to her before striding briskly out of the door. As I leave I hear Tori's voice, a faint lecture directed toward whom I'm guessing can only be Peter. I smile lightly before grimacing in pain as a sharp pain bursts across my left temple prickling to my crown.

The walk to the infirmary seems longer than it most likely is. I stride quickly not allowing the pain to dominant my thoughts. I have to stop momentarily to regain my composure after shocks of pain wave through my head.

When I make it to the infirmary the woman, I assume to be the nurse sits me down and launches multiple questions at me that I can't process because of the shocks in my head.

I hear things like:

"When did the pain start?"

_Sunday morning._

"How does it hurt?"

_Hurts like hell._

"Where is the pain?"

_In my goddy head._

"I mean where on your head is it located."

_Left temple and middle of forehead._

She retrieves a thermometer from a cabinet and makes her way back to me.

"What have you been doing this weekend?" She asks her tone slightly suspicious.

Nurses or people that work in the infirmary don't belong to any specific faction although they favor particular ones that are to their liking. This nurse probably thinks I've been partying all weekend and being an adrenaline junkie like most of the Dauntless.

"I've been cooking and showing my initiates around the Compound," I say with a slightly satisfied edge.

The whole weekend was spent with sophomores and Eric, which wouldn't have been particularly bad if Eric wasn't present.

Her face shows shock, but she quickly masks it by putting the thermometer in my mouth roughly and pulling it back out after a minute.

"It's a low fever mister, no classes for you unless you want to infect the whole Dauntless student body," she says setting the thermometer down on a piece of paper. "I'll write you a note for your next teacher; I know how FCS teachers hate not being informed."

I rake a hand through my hair and press two fingers to my forehead before thanking the nurse and walking out the door.

I stop by my locker to grab my backpack that I threw in before CC and head off to PT. Poor Coach will have to teach alone today.

When I walk through the doors of the Arena, the initiates stop moving and all direct their attention toward me. I don't allow any contact with anyone until a redheaded boy falls as I make my beeline toward Coach Fernandez's office. I hold out my arm so he can clasp it, but he makes a pointed look at my hand then looks up to me and smirks while pushing himself up. Girls giggle and boys smirk, but I just start to Coach's office again.

"Drew you're an idiot," I hear someone say chidingly and I smile.

"Hey Coach I'm sorry, but I'm sick I can't help out today," I say to him.

"It's ok Eaton, you look like you're about to hurl, go home and rest," he says slapping my back.

I smile thanks, but turn around again not leaving.

"I'll be back tomorrow though," I say.

He nods and shakes his head chidingly as if to say I work too hard.

I walk out and sling my backpack over both shoulders striding quickly out of the Arena not meeting anybody's eye. When I walk out of the door I thrown off proportion by a small figure in front of me.

"Oh, Four, I'm- uh sorry," the figure says.

I look up from the ground and see Tris looking at me guiltily. My head swirls and I grimace. I push myself up and try to give a light smile.

"Sorry I didn't mean to knock you over," she says scratching at her neck.

She's holding a gym bag and shuffling her feet nervously.

"Are you late for PT?" I ask eyebrows creased.

"Uh yeah I am," she says.

"Then go," I chuckle. "Coach isn't out yet, you better hurry."

Her mouth quirks and she says "thanks" before running through the door.

**[PAGE BREAK]**

A knock sounds at my door and I groan rolling over into a pillow on my bed.

"Yo Eaton get up!" A voice that sounds undeniably like Zeke's yells out.

"Zeke go away!" I yell into my pillow.

After running into Tris, I came back to my apartment, took a short shower, and crashed on my bed with a wicked ache on my left temple. From checking my phone, I've realized that I've slept until 3:30 pm- when classes end.

"Come on man I got some soup for you! I heard you were sick," he says.

I groan using an elbow to prop myself up and stumble toward the door unlatching the lock and twisting the handle roughly.

"Zeke if this isn't for soup your ass will be-"

Zeke stands with Uriah and Tris all of them holding a bowl of soup and about twenty packets of crackers each.

Uriah elbows Tris and she squeals and attempts to kick him but he sidesteps away. They both look up at me and lose their playful faces.

"Uh hey guys," I say awkwardly scratching the base of my neck.

"Yo bro I have some chicken noodle for you," he says shoving a bowl toward me.

I grab it and take a careful sip. If Zeke cooked this, I'm wary of it.

"Ok this crap is good," I say my voice rough. "Who made it?"

I'm too tired to even assess the quality of the meal only that it tastes like heaven.

"Haha I've been stealing your initiates to cook for me since I'm too lazy," he says.

"I'm guessing Tris cooked this because it tastes really good," I say shooting a questioning look toward her.

"Uh how offensive, but yes I took the best softie cook because well she just cooks damn well," Zeke chuckles.

"Hey!" Uriah exclaims.

"She does Uri; you just have to admit it. Actually, Four can admit it. He's the only one who's tasted more than one dish from her," Zeke replies.

I see Tris's cheeks heat up from embarrassment and I oddly wish they didn't. She should know she cooks well and not be embarrassed.

"You're dismissed guys, thanks," Zeke says to Uriah and Tris. They walk toward the direction of the dorms and pass around the corner.

"Stop bossing my initiates around Zeke," I say.

"Hey, the soup tastes good though doesn't it?" He asks.

"It tastes pretty good," I agree.

"Did you hear what happened in CC today?" Zeke asks leaning against the frame of my door.

"I was out man, of course I didn't," I say.

"Oh yeah... Well apparently some competition is coming up for seniors this month for the best cook," he says.

"Really?" I ask curious.

"Yeah, I said you were going to win," he says.

"What? Why'd you say that?" I ask.

"Because you're a freakin sous-chef since junior year," he rolls his eyes. "Tori will explain it to you in CC don't worry bro. Get some rest, you look horrible," he says sauntering off to God knows where.

**Tris**

"Zip-lining sounds legit," Will agrees nodding his head at Uriah.

"Didn't you go with Uriah on Sunday?" Christina asks me tapping her fingers rapidly on my bedspread.

"Yeah, he dragged me there. It was really fun actually," I say nodding my head.

We spent the whole weekend touring the Dauntless Compound with Four and Eric. Eric was frankly scary and downright creepy whereas Four was intimidating but radiated controlled authority.

"Hm want to go Christina?" Will asks her.

Her cheeks redden the blush curling around the curve of her jaw and up to her cheekbones.

"Uh yeah sure," she responds nervously.

Will smiles at her and she grins back. I feel as if I'm intruding upon something that I wasn't suppose to see so I divert my attention to the ivory paint of the wall.

"Oh yeah I forgot to ask you two, where were you?" Christina asks turning to Uriah and I.

"Zeke made us slave and make some chicken noodle soup for Four because he's sick," Uriah answers.

"Oh that's why you guys had bowls when you came back here," Will says nodding.

"Is that why Four wasn't at PT today? And left like halfway into CC?" Christina asks curiosity peaking in her tone.

"Yeah, I ran into him before coming to PT though," I say.

Before anybody can respond, the dorm door opens and Peter and his clique come walking through, sauntering just a little too much than socially acceptable.

"Hey Stiff? What's up?" Peter asks coming up and flicking a lock of my hair out of my face.

"Don't touch me," I say.

"Oh God, get a life Peter," Christina rolls her eyes.

Al walks through in the middle of this and we all stop and greet him. He looks awkwardly at us and then scurries to his bed.

"Uh so anyway, since you two already zip-lined, I guess it'll be just Christina and me?" Will says.

"Yeah Tris-o and I can go hang in the Arena. I was going to teach her basketball," Uriah says nudging my arm.

"Yeah? Ok, sounds good to me," I say standing up wiping off non-existent sweat from my hands to my jeans. "Oh I gotta stop by the Training Room though before the Arena."

"That's fine I'll go with you," he says and I nod in agreement.

Uriah and I bid our friends good-bye and make our way toward the Training Room. I advance toward the room and for some reason, I expect Four to be there, scolding somebody or just standing in his natural environment: the kitchen. However, the room is empty and I find myself hurrying to put the soup away so I can leave the room as fast as I came. When I come out of the room Uriah is talking to Marlene who smiles happily nodding her head at whatever he's saying.

"Hey Marlene, what's up?"

"Oh hey Tris, not much actually."

"I was asking Marlene here if she would like to accompany us to the Arena and play some basketball," Uriah smiling crookedly at Marlene.

Marlene nods enthusiastically and I grin to myself.

"Hey guys, uh I just remembered I had some homework to do. You two go ahead without me," I say.

After a quick argument, they agree to go alone and when I'm left, alone I feel shocked that I just helped get two of my friends together. Abnegation don't do that, but I guess Dauntless do.

**[PAGE BREAK]**

On my way back to the dorms, I grab myself another bowl of soup and several packets of crackers for dinner. As I walk down the halls, the blue light casts shadows off my body and reflects off the walls and ground. I hear a low whimper to my right and I see Four opening his apartment door with great difficulty. My Abnegation instincts take over and I set down the bowl and advance toward the door pulling it open.

"Oh, thanks Tris," he says embarrassed gripping the wall for support.

"Four, where are you going? You're sick," I remind him chidingly.

He scowls at my reprimand and I remember he is older than I am and he is my instructor.

"Sorry," he apologizes noticing my reaction to his scowl. "I was hungry and the Training Room isn't that far so I thought I should cook something," he says grimacing.

"That's-"

"A bad idea, I know," he says his mouth quirking. "I'm still going though, by the way thanks for the soup, it tasted like heaven."

"Thank you… Wait here, take this," I sat shoving my bowl of soup toward him. "I'm pretty sure there are some rules on infected people going into a room where we cook."

He gives me a smile I would rate in Dauntless standards a smile in-between wicked and blush provoking. It makes me think the first and causes the latter to happen.

"Thanks Tris, you should probably go finish your CC paper," he says.

"Oh yeah… Wait how do you know about that?"

He chuckles, "Because I was the one who assigned it to be due tomorrow."

My jaw drops. The essay is due _tomorrow_? I've only started the introduction. I scamper down the hall leaving Four leaning against his doorframe and laughing loud enough that I can hear it from around the hall.

**A/N: Whoa, so the 4****th**** of July was awesome, but I'm back to write. I actually accidently deleted this chapter when I was halfway into it and it got me extremely frustrated. However, it's up now so enjoy. Thanks for follows, favs, reviews, and such. Do tell me any constructive criticism you have. Read & Review!**

**P.S.- To: **_**loveallthings, **_**I'm glad you enjoy my story :) **

**-TFW**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine******

**I don't own Divergent!******

**Tris**

"Tris, wake up Tris," a voice sounds softly.

I groan and lift my head slowly only to hear my neck pop simultaneously with my stiff jaw. I wince scratching my head roughly.

"Tris, why were you here?" Christina asks me. "Your bed isn't that far away."

She says 'here' as in at the desk at in the small cubicle that my bed and nightstand resides in.

"Oh," I rub my arm tiredly. "I needed to finish up the CC paper that was assigned."

"_Whoa_, hold the phone, when is that paper _due_?" She asks stopping in her tracks.

"Tomorrow," I yawn.

I spent about four hours researching and typing the essay and another hour revising and proof reading. The entire length of time while, in the process of coaxing the words to appear on the laptop screen, I couldn't help laughing at how Four was amused at my reaction to the essay's due date.

"Oh my freakin God, how am I going to finish it? It's like _midnight _already!" She exclaims.

"Oh jeez Christina, I should've told you earlier..." I say guiltily.

She scurries to her little cubicle and clicks on her laptop muttering, "_No shiz_."

I would volunteer to assist her on the essay, but by the rabid expression on her face, I decide to shower and get ready for bed. I shower quickly and dress in a pair of loose shorts and a black t-shirt that comes down a little below my waist. It doesn't take long for my eyes to grow heavy and the length of the day's events to tumble over me, and invite sleep welcomingly.  
**  
****[Page Break]****  
**  
"Four here will collect your culinary history essays while I pass out these requirement papers," Tori says gesturing to a still slightly sick Four.

He makes brief eye contact with me and the events of yesterday come rushing back to me, and rose colored blush creeps up my face. The entire class suddenly hushes and a nervous tinge washes over the room.

"Chef Tori, um I wasn't aware that it was _due _today," Grayson says nervously.

Before Chef Tori is able to respond the whole class chimes in with an, "Me too," or, "Uh yeah."

"How many of you did not finish your paper?" Tori, asks.

The entire class not including Christina and I raise their hand and Tori sighs.

"This is the only time, emphasis on only, that I will allow this to pass. I will allow this class to be a study hall. Thank you Tris and Christina for being punctual," she says.

Everyone retrieves their laptops from their backpacks and starts typing rapidly. Four comes to Christina first to retrieve her paper and then to me. He gazes at me with a funny expression and his mouth quirks slightly.

"So tell me _Tris_, who told Christina that this paper was due today?" he asks.

He grips his head shortly as if a sudden pain spurted through his temples.

"Uh I did…" I say.

"Ah."

He smiles the same smile as he did yesterday that I rated between wicked and blush provoking, but this time it shows as utterly amused.

"Mr. Eaton, get over here right now!" Chef Tori yells her gaze directed toward the assignment on her desk that teachers usually possess.

Four cocks his head slightly and his brows furrow in confusion. I suddenly realize that his surname is "Eaton" and that Chef Tori is calling for him. Zeke said "Eaton" yesterday, but it didn't dawn on me that the name belonged to him. Although it is just a last name, it arouses confusion in me because the name has a tinge of familiarity in it that I can't recall.

"Coming..." Four says as if he is asking a question.

Chef Tori uses a hushed voice as her eyes narrow at Four who stands expressionless nodding.

I don't have any work to complete seeing as I already finished the biology questions in class so I rest my head on my desk my head positioned so I lay on my right ear.

"I can't remember recalling that this was due _today_," Tori says, her tone steely.

I didn't think it was possible, but Four's tone turns sheepish when he responds, "What do you mean?"

"I _mean_, Mr. Eaton, that when I checked what was due today that the Culinary History paper was on the there although now that I recall the paper didn't have any _specific _due date that I remember assigned."

Four opens his mouth to respond, but then quickly shuts it.

"Question, Four," she says quietly although I can hear her distinctive tone if I listen close enough. "Did you only tell one of the initiates or let's say possibly two because only two have turned in their papers."

"Um," Four looks baffled an expression I would think to see on anyone but him. "Chef, I was sick yesterday and I trenchantly remembering that the paper was put down as due tomorrow seeing as I assigned it… I must have not remembered correctly."

Chef Tori's mouth twitches slightly. "Is that so?"

"I apologize Chef, I am still a student."

"A senior _and _sous-chef at that," she counters.

Four breaks out in an apologetic smile and Chef Tori smiles back although I can see she suppresses it.

"You're a little devious charmer aren't you?" Chef Tori asks dejectedly in a motherly sort of way.

"Yes ma'am," he rolls his eyes.

"Go see if anyone needs help," she shoos him away and sits down.

I shift my head to appear as if I hadn't listened in on the conversation and I direct my gaze toward the window.

"Hey Tris?" Christina's voice sounds next to me.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for the heads up on the essay, I would've been dead," she says.

I laugh, "No problem."

Christina smiles and clicks on her laptop typing what I expect to be a password in rapidly.

"Tris?"

I lift my head to see Chef Tori looking in my direction waiting patiently. I stand up and make my way toward her.

"Yes?" I ask.

"Would you do me a favor and run this down to Chef Max's room?"

"Oh, yeah," I say taking the small stack of papers that seem to have recipes printed on them.

I reach Chef Max's room and hand the papers to him trying not to bring any attention to myself, but an initiate who I remember from Biology and PT named Callan flicks his eyes up toward me and grins as if he understands a joke that I wasn't informed about. I look away quickly and hurry out of the room.

"Seniors from all factions will be participating in a competition for being the most accomplished cook of their faction. Each senior will be able to select an assistant or as we refer to Four here as, sous-chef. They are permitted to choose anyone from their faction. Therefore, yes it is possible that a senior could choose you, although highly improbable, to be their sous-chef."

I stride into the room to this new information and sit down intrigued by what Chef Tori said. Uriah raises his hand and Chef Tori calls on him.

"What will happen to class time if you are selected as a sous-chef?"

"Good question Uriah, the reason I informed you guys, is because for the next few weeks we will be training for, in the event you are chosen, knowing the responsibilities of a sous-chef. The event will be campus wide so the whole school will watch, therefore no classes will be held."

"When is the competition?" Sarah a curious girl asks.

Right before Christmas Break," she responds.

The whole class erupts in a buzz of excitement, and although I don't show it, I'm ecstatic about experiencing it. Who would choose me though? Who would choose a sophomore for that matter?

"Oh man, if Zeke doesn't choose his bro this will be sad," Uriah says sliding into an empty chair next to me.

"Oh yeah, Uri, you're lucky you have connections," Christina sighs. "Who's going to pick us? We don't even know that many seniors."

"Well we know Shauna, Lauren, Zeke, and Four," Will states.

"It's not like they're going to pick us though," Marlene says sitting down.

I bite my lip, thinking. "I guess they have junior friends they would pick."

We all agree and slip into a melancholy silence so when the bell rings we walk out to our next class our minds awake from the thoughts about the competition.

**Four**

After slipping out from CC I caught up to Zeke after stopping by my locker to grab some clothe for PT.

"Zeke, why didn't you inform me on the _details _of the competition?"

"Huh? Oh it's not a big deal I don't see what's wrong."

"I have to pick a _sous-chef_? You know I'm not good at having a sous-chef. Possibly because I _am_ the sous-chef."

"Don't worry bro, just pick a junior. You cook so well that you don't even _need_ one- heck for that matter just pick a softie!" Zeke says.

I grumble and part ways with Zeke because PT is the opposite hall from wherever Zeke wants to go for free period. When I arrive at the Arena, Coach greets me with a clap on the back and I smile in return. The initiates arrive and we run a mile and perform multiple drills before we work on core exercises. My gaze slides over all of the initiates and stops where the redheaded boy, Drew, glares at me. Peter and Molly look at Drew curiously as if to see what he will do. My gaze slides over to the left and I see Callan, a boy in the second CC class I suppose, talking up Tris. She seems oblivious to how he smiles brightly and looks her up and down once. Perhaps grudgingly, my eyes waver toward a small huddled circle in one of the four corners.

I stand up and make my way towards the circle. Two boys, one well muscled and tall and the other skinner but just as in shape throwing punches at each other. If today were the day that I was teaching fighting I would correct their technique and stances, but right now, all I can do is break the fight up.

"Excuse me, what do you think you two are doing?" I ask instructor voiced.

"Fighting, what else?" the taller one asks.

The smaller one wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and looks at me with an expression I mark as fear.

"First break it up, PT isn't the place or time to fight about what probably is a girl, second both of your stances are incorrect and if you hold your thumbs inside of your fists you are sure to break them."

Both boys' cheeks flame embarrassment written sharply over their faces. Inside I smile at how well I actually handled that. They grudgingly nod and out of my peripheral, I see awed faces from the initiates. When I turn around, they act as they weren't staring and I raise my eyebrows. The only person that doesn't withhold their smile is Tris who tries to suppress it when she sees me looking. I scratch the nape of my neck, but I can sense she sees the ghost of a smile pass through my lips as I turn around.

**[Page Break]**

The day passes by uneventfully, but although nothing new happens the news of the competition prickles at the edge of my thoughts. What I told Zeke was for the most part true. Being a sous-chef myself, I was second in command to the higher authority, the head chef. I assisted chefs in an actual kitchen to earn myself the title and place at this school. I am an extremely young sous-chef. The thought of first in command being my place was actually nauseating.

"Four, wanna hang in the Pit? Buy some food instead of cooking tonight," my friends call out to me.

I realize I am standing at my locker, everyone else has gone to do whatever the planned for after classes.

"Yeah sure," I say.

I slam the locker door shut and turn my lock back to zero before pressing the middle down. I tell myself to allow myself not to stress over the competition subject too much so I smile when Zeke claps me on the back and stride down to the Pit.

**Tris**

I pass around a corner and see someone I would not expect to be in the Dauntless Compound. My eyes widen in confusion and his expression mirrors mine for the briefest second before we snap out of our dazes.

"Caleb?"

"Bea? Why are you here?"

I look my brother up and down and see him wearing the Erudite attire I saw him in before coming to FCS. He holds a manila file filled with several documents.

"Because this is the Dauntless Compound and I am Dauntless," I state laughing.

"Whoa, Dauntless Compound?" he asks.

"Are you lost? You know you shouldn't be in another faction's HQ," I say.

The factions have a strict rule on other faction members trespassing on the premises.

"Lost, yes."

"Not so Erudite are we?" I tease him.

He smiles, but looks around nervously as if he will be caught. I grab my brother's arm and direct toward the door that leads out of the Compound.

"You know your way from here?"

"Yeah, I do…" he says trailing off.

"I wish we could talk," I say reading his mind.

My brother and I are close, not regular for normal siblings but our age difference might attribute to it.

"Me too Bea, but…"

"It's fine Caleb, I'll see you around," I smile and he agrees.

Before I can say anything else, he is gone in a quick motion. I won't see Caleb for some time though because aside from summer we spend the time here. I sigh creasing my eyebrows before spotting a white sheet of paper in stark contrast to the ebony ground. I pick it up and out of pure curiosity, my eyes skim down the page. The few words I capture are:

Caleb Prior: sous-chef

My brows pull in a thin line before I realize the meaning. Caleb will be in the competition.

**A/N: Read & Review! Tell me what you think of the story and any ideas are welcome. What I find funny is that many people in this fandom love Imagine Dragons- I'm one of them- and it's odd. Half the time I was writing this I was listening to them so yeah.**

**P.S. - Guess what? Veronica Roth is coming to Texas! I'm going to be able to meet her! **

**-TFW**


	10. Chapter 10

******Chapter 10******

**I don't own Divergent!******

**Tris****  
**  
I lay in bed debating, thinking about my newfound knowledge.

_Caleb is in the competition._

Although I am a former Abnegation, I didn't live up to the standards of a true one while I belonged to the faction, more mentally than in my physical actions. The pang of jealousy that hits me again right in the heart of my stomach somewhere I suppose to be my gut. Caleb has always excelled in showing his selflessness even in his cooking whereas I struggle being too selfish to even live up to his standards much less my parents. I know I shouldn't feel the jealousy, but I do and that is what washes me over with undeniable shame. I breathe out once closing my eyes and exhaling softly in a puff of air.

My peers breathe in a hushed unison around me and although I listen and try to match the rhythm, my breaths leave my mouth a second faster and when I inhale the intake is a second slower.

_I am different._

Divergent. The word is whispered in desolate hallways and behind dorm doors. Although my interpreted meaning is a good one, I have a gut feeling that the way the word is whispered it isn't meant to be praised. That is a fitting name for me. Sometimes I feel the hints of Abnegation peeking through, the inquisitive Erudite intellect vying for attention in class, then the sudden burst of adrenaline pumping Dauntless when I perform a brave act or likewise a foolish one. I am different and selfish. Accepting the facts would be easier to deal with the suddenly offbeat tempo of our breaths and the jealousy boiling in my stomach.

"Tris," a voice hisses in the dark.

I recoil and move in a swift motion to the wall banging my head loudly in the process.

"Chill, Tris, it's just me," Uriah's voice sounds.

"Uriah? Come on that scared me to death," I say returning to reality.

"You didn't seem asleep, I was just wondering!" He whispers loudly raising his arms in defense.

The beam of light that peaks in through the thin crack of the door illuminates his face just enough that I am able to recognize him. His sharp angular features are bathed in a quiet light, and I see how he is referred to as handsome although I do not like him.

"Sorry, Tris-o," he says popping his lips together emitting a "puh" sound.

I curl into my blankets, the soft plush of the feathers, and think about sleep, invite it welcomingly, but it doesn't come.

Lack of sleep doesn't weigh down my thoughts at all when the dorm awakens at the sound of an alarm. I shut my eyes quickly as if I was asleep. Others moan and silently I pull myself out of bed and making my way to the bathroom.

I am blocked off by everyone else jammed against the door not moving.

"Hey come on!" Uriah shouts out from behind me.

"What are you guys waiting for?" Will asks from besides me.

"Oh calm down already, apparently our first class is CC today and we'll be staying there until lunch," Peter says gruffly.

"Why?" Lynn counters rubbing a hand across her baldhead.

"Does it look like I know?" Peter growls.

"Give it a break Peter," Molly grumbles and Peter shoots her a baneful glare.

"Ugh just move, I gotta shower," Christina mutters scratching her head; the hair is a frizzy halo of cocoa.

"Shut up Candor nobody asked you," Drew smirks.

"Now, now dear children let us all just happily get along," Uriah says in an accent that I can describe as invented.

"Uri just move out of the freakin way," Christina says.

"Rainbows and ponies Christina," I say.

"Oh shut it Tris."

I chuckle, grab a pair of black shorts and a loose black tee shirt, and head toward the bathroom. I decide that since we have time I am able to shower.

"Hey Stiff," Peter smirks as I emerge from the shower area.

I forgot to bring my undergarments, and the dorm isn't that far away so I was just going to run exceptionally fast back to my cubicle.

"Doesn't look more than 12 does she?" Molly snickers.

Drew flicks a lock of my hair coming closer. I bite my lip breathing shallow. A nervous buzzing sounds through my ears and my stomach churns.

_No, no, no don't come closer.__  
_  
I back away slightly providing distance between me and the posse.

"Stop it," I say my voice turning softer than I expected it to sound.

"I don't know, let's see," Peter snarls responding to Molly.

He grabs the towel from my grasp, but I turn around and swipe it back before a long period can past. I bound down the hall to the dorm and lock myself in the small bathroom that we have in the room.

I clench my jaw tightly ignoring the hot tears threatening to spill.

_Dauntless, you are Dauntless.__  
_  
I breathe my breath hitching in my throat once before I pull on my shorts and slip the shirt over. I comb my hair thoroughly and slowly strand by strand fashion it into a high ponytail. The dull blonde-haired person I expected to see from my hair isn't there. Flickers of gold and sullen yellow blend together to emit a shiny blonde glow that for some reason allows me to breathe normally after my encounter although white hot fury still course through my veins.

I do not search for my friends; I immediately make a beeline for the CC room, which is a couple hallways down from the Training Room. When I arrive, I push the door open rather forcefully and realize I am early, _too_ early.

"Morning Tris," Chef Tori says flipping a gooey substance on a pan.

"Good morning," I reply before hesitating slightly.

My breaths are still somewhat heavy from subdued anger, but I ignore it and watch intently as a real chef cooks. The anger inside slowly dissipates as I breathe in the scent of the kitchen though.

"Don't ask me what it is, I frankly have no idea," Chef Tori says to my staring.

"You don't know what you're cooking?" I ask confused.

You have to know what you're cooking to be cooking it.

"This is an invention of the sort… Four makes me cook it for him in the mornings. All I can tell you that it tastes like hell of a good breakfast meal."

"Four makes you cook it for him?" I ask the thought of somebody making breakfast for Four hysterical.

Somebody clears their throat gruffly behind me and says, "Chef, I wasn't aware that I _made_ you cook this for me today."

I spin around to face Four who has his cobalt eyes narrowed in questioning. Chef Tori rolls her eyes and gives Four a pointed look.

"Ok, yes I did want it, but I didn't make you..." Four trails off flicking his eyes over to me and acknowledging me with a terse nod.

Chef Tori laughs and I crack a smile slightly wary of offending Four.

"Would you like some Tris? You _are_ quite early," Chef Tori asks me.

"No thank you, I'm fine."

"No, no, no you are here, so you are trying," Four interrupts raising his eyebrows at me daring me to question.

"But-"

"No buts," Four confirms sitting down straddling his chair.

I bite my lip trying not to smile. I don't know why, but my eyes wander over to him every once in a while as if something new is going to happen that I need to be prepared for.

"I've never asked, Four, but... what is this called?" Chef Tori asks.

"Uh I never named it. How about Dauntless cake?" He asks.

The more in depth they approach the subject the more my confusion grows and curiosity on the ingredients.

"Dauntless cake! No, Mr. Four, this," she says pulling out a slice of dark chocolate frosted cake from the fridge, "is Dauntless cake."

Simultaneously she clicks of the stove and plops down on a chair eating the cake with her fingers.

Well this is a new experience. I'm watching a teacher eat cake- with her fingers- while my instructor, who happens to be a student also, sits as if this isn't obviously odd.

"So Four, have you thought of whom you want sous-chef-ing?" Chef Tori asks Four.

I took the seat furthest away from the stove and a slight distance away from Chef and Four.

My stomach tightens at the thought of the competition, at the thought of Caleb. I could have never fathomed that culinary would be a topic that would made me feel a plethora of sickening emotions. I hear them discuss the topic, but the boiling in my stomach burns, and blocks out the words to a dull low throb.

**[Page Break]**

"So Stiff, it seems you've brought backup this time?" Molly hisses in my ear as she takes a seat west of where my friends and I reside.

I don't acknowledge her and she strides away her eyebrows creased, displeased.

"As you know we going to learn the responsibilities of a sous-chef," Chef Tori announces.

The class stops abruptly quieting to a whisper and giggle and then dead silence. The soft patter of rain outside assumes the rightful place of the verbalization that we departed with seconds ago.

"Sous-chef," Chef Tori continues. "Is rightfully the most arduous position in the kitchen; the chef's tasks hardly compare to the grueling work sous-chefs undertake.

"Why wouldn't being a chef be harder?" Peter laughs. "They are after all, the head of the kitchen.

"Because," Four says making a low irritated sound in his throat. "The sous-chef directs the kitchen, the planning of the food. They must be quick to know each position and what the responsibilities of each of them. The sous-chef will fill in for the chef if he or she is not present. We discipline the lower ranks and keep them in place."

Peter's smirk dissipates as Four scowls at him menacingly. The challenge is apparent, more so on Peter's side then on Four's.

"Yes, Four here has experience as a genuine sous-chef so I would be attentive to his words. Even if you aren't in the competition," Chef Tori nods her tone sternly directed toward Peter. "By the end of the week seniors are required to have chosen a sous-chef who will assist them in their cooking," Tori states throwing a pointed look at Four.

His expression darkens washing over with an emotion I can only describe as conflicted.

The lecture continues and I find myself engrossed in the definitions, explanations, and the pure significance of a culinary lecture from an authentic chef. It seems, as I'm the only one focused of the lecture though because when the bell rings I am still caught in some sort of a daze.

"Tris! Tris do you hear me? Juliana just asked me to sous-chef for her!" Christina squeals in my ear euphoria bouncing in the tone of her voice.

"Really, that's great!" I fake a genuine smile.

The burning at my gut tightens. Christina is in the competition now. I should be happy, excited for her, yet the fire consumes me. I dash out of the room my teeth jagged on the soft insides of my cheek.

**[Page Break]**

There is a hidden window on the second floor of the Dauntless Compound. It resides near the culinary research library and the infinite halls of the upper floor. The window is concealed by black curtains swathed on all sides of the jutted out wall. The relaxing factor is the plush mahogany tinted window seat that is about six feet in length and large enough in width to accommodate two full-grown human beings.

Situating myself on the left corner of the seat I run my fingers through the fabric breathing quietly to take pleasure in the scenic view.

Water glides across the glass dotting it with orbs of clear liquid. The window is slightly ajar allowing crisp fresh air to enter my system; it smells of rain, the pleasurable aroma of wet pavement. The trees outside sway leisurely as if in beat with the harmonic music that just doesn't reach my capacity of hearing. The sky is colored with a pale stormy grey the edge my own eyes occasionally reflect when something is bothering my peace of mind.

Classes ended with unusual commotion of students vying for senior's attention and the hoots of laughter and euphoria of a junior or an occasional sophomore accepting the task of taking on the position of sous-chef. Uriah was grudgingly asked by Zeke and Lynn by her sister Shauna. Will and I hadn't been asked by anybody although the way I took it internally bothered me more than the fact that _wasn't _asked.

Juliana, the senior who asked Christina to sous-chef for her wasn't somebody I knew well although we've crossed paths multiple times seeing as one of the senior CC classes followed sophomore CC.

High-pitched chirps from birds travel to my ears and soften my expression slightly. The sound is sharp and distinct although sweet in sound. The swirl of color in the sky reminds me of a sudden memory that is so fleeting that the harder I try to remember it the faster it fades. My eyes flicker once a wave of drowsiness drowning my thoughts and subduing them to a placid hum. Before I accept that, I'm too far gone from reality there's a dreamy voice that I can't distinguish from male or female, reality or dream:

"Be my sous-chef?"

**A/N: AH it's Dan Reynolds birthday so this chapter is to Imagine Dragons. This chapter was supposed to be done sooner, but I went to Six Flags and then I had cleaning and there goes two days. Read & review! Ideas and thoughts are always welcome.**

**-TFW**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11******

**I don't own Divergent!******

**Four**

I pace around my apartment room, the dull thud of my steps blending in with my tumultuous thoughts. The over analyzing of each microscopic detail was driving me on the verge of insanity although I wasn't necessarily certain that I _hadn't_ reached the point yet.

The outcry of euphoria from juniors and the rare sophomore was too much to handle when I was grasping for a reason why _I_ hadn't just chosen somebody yet. My friends selected their siblings or close, younger friends they had. I can't identify the turmoil inside me only that it was demolishing my every sense of resolve in _anything_.

"Four, get out here!" Zeke voice sounds seeping through the door more piercing than I expected.

The loud pounds emitting from the door aren't allowing me to concentrate on myself denial so grudgingly I decide to open it for Zeke. I stride carefully over to the door unlatching it, and feel a sense of déjà vu combined with a melancholy dread.

"Come on let's go," he announces pushing me forward with the palms of his hands.

"Zeke!" I holler as he leads me around the halls. "Where are you taking me?"

"To a freakin' magical wonderland where ponies fly and everybody lives happily ever after!" Shauna exclaims cropping up out of God knows where.

"Jesus, Shauna don't do that!" Zeke screams an edge of femininity in the exclamation.

"So that means I can't pop out of God knows where either?" Lauren asks flicking a black painted nail at Zeke's cheek.

"Where the hell do you guys keep coming from?" Zeke asks in exasperation.

I crack a small smile that only displays on my face briefly before it wavers into a stoic expression.

"What's wrong Four-y?" Zeke purrs.

"Oh God, no don't do that Zeke," I mutter recoiling from his touch.

"Four, you _know_ you want me babe," he smiles widely he slides his arm around my shoulder with a light touch.

Lauren and Shauna are up against a wall clutching their stomachs laughing.

"Guys help please?" I ask irritated

"But Zeke finally proclaimed his love! You can't let him down Four!" Lauren says feigning shock.

"Lauren's right Four, Zeke has been waiting years until this day," Shauna chimes in.

A faint crease appears in between my eyebrows before I stop walking biting my lower lip deep in thought. Lauren, Shauna, and Zeke exchange brief glances before returning their gazes back to me.

"_What_?" I question frankly irritated by the slightest off detail.

"What's wrong Four?" Lauren asks concerned.

What's wrong? Oh, God everything is wrong at this moment, but the subject that triggered my irritated state isn't something I would like to discuss.

"I'm sorry bro I was kidding, you knew that," Zeke says lightly clapping my back.

"Is he still sick?" Shauna asks Lauren.

"No," I grit my teeth aggravated. "I am not sick."

It would be so much easier to say I am sick, that the explanation to my attitude is because of an illness.

"Four, what's wrong?" Lauren sighs.

"Want to know what's _wrong_?" my voice softens.

For most their voice blares when anger is outpoured, but the stark opposite is shown in me. My voice sounds quietly, so hushed that if it were I, listening, I would have to silence myself entirely to hear.  
They nod although I can see the confusion apparent on their faces.

"What's wrong is that I don't have a goddy sous-chef and _everybody else does_!" I hiss quietly storming off.

I know I shouldn't be angry, the anger isn't reasonable. My attitude itself isn't very sensible. I wish I could attribute my reactions to being ill or something of the sort, but I can't.

Before I am aware of where my feet have led me to the upper floor of the Compound. It contains a plethora of endless hallways that even I being a senior have never explored entirely.

I spot the library across from me with several students on computers and others slurping a drink. The culinary research library is relaxing. It also has a Starbucks custom made for the Dauntless so they serve Dauntless cake, muffins, and such.

From this floor, the pounding of the rain is audible and somewhere a window is slightly opened because the gratifying scent of rain is present. Abruptly I remember why I am on the second floor in the first place. A wave of reproachful-ness of myself washes over me for being so stoical to my friends, my only friends.

I order a frappuccino that I instantly forget the name of and search for the alcove that I found hidden in my sophomore year. Each year at least one sophomore has discovered my window and when I find them, they are either crying because they are soon to be Factionless or they have found a nice hideout and are relaxing until they see me and run. I haven't returned to this alcove since last year when I was reveling in the delight of being a sous-chef.

This time I don't find a crying initiate or a relaxing one, I discover an initiate of my own drifting off into somewhere only she knows.

**Tris****  
**  
The indistinctive voice I hear stuns me out of my dream-induced state and shocks me awake, fully aware of my surroundings. Fully aware of the instructor standing over me holding a, what it seems like to be a frappuccino from Starbucks.

I stare wide-eyed not knowing what I should do.

And the voice, it wasn't real, just a wistful figment of my spacious imagination. Something deflates in me.

"Hello Tris," he says quietly.

"Four! Uh hello..." I stammer heat rushing to my face.

"What brings you here?" He asks his tone still low, hushed.

"I- I uh found this place and..." I trail off.

He probably doesn't want to be bothered with one of his initiate's inner jealousy of her friends being in the competition. He must have already chosen his own sous-chef already considering all of his friends already have.

His face darkens as if he remembers something he rather not commemorate. "Has anybody asked you to sous-chef yet?"

I stare shocked that he would ask, but then remember he is waiting for a response. "No."

"I'm surprised nobody did. You cook well for a sophomore," he says his tone still muted.

I shift my weight so that my feet almost touch the ground so that it doesn't seem as if I am- mostly that I appear socially acceptable. I don't know how to respond to the compliment so I nod.

He shakes his head, his gelled hair not moving with the motion of his head. "I should be going. I'll see you in CC Tris. Have a good night."

"Have you... Do you have a sous-chef?" I blurt out suddenly. I hold my breath praying he doesn't continue walking and ignore me.

He turns around with an expression that remains placid. "No, I don't."

His mouth doesn't quirk like it usually does and I wonder what's wrong, what's bothering him. Then it hits me with a simultaneous wave of confusion: he doesn't have a sous-chef.

**[Page Break]**

The highlight of the day is shorter classes. The longest classes of the day are CC and Biology for sophomores with different free periods in between.

"What's wrong Tris-o?" Uriah asks me nudging my shoulder with his own.

_I'm jealous that you are in the competition? _No, I can't say that.__

"Nothing," I smile, "is Uriah actually noticing people have feelings?"

He feigns disbelief. "No! Never! What are these," he air quotes with his fingers, "feelings you speak of?"

"Uriah you are way too much," I say laughing.

"Tris is right Uri!" Marlene chimes in giggling.

"Can we ditch? Like seriously, I stayed up reading this article thingy and I'm so freakin' tired," Christina yawns.

"We have to be at least in CC though. You're gonna sous-chef if I remember correctly," Will say superiorly to Christina.

"Oh shut up," she says elbowing him in the ribs.

I don't miss her grin when she scolds him though.

"Tris can I- can I talk to you," a voice says next to me.

I turn to see Al, whom I forgot was walking with us. Guilt washes over me for not acknowledging him and being friendlier. Then again, the thought is from Abnegation, my former faction, but I suppose I will always be Abnegation in some sort of way.

"Oh, we can talk in class," I say.

Today and here on out- until the competition- there will be training sessions with seniors to practice and get the feel of each other's cooking. Even though I don't have a chef to assist I don't fancy being late.

"No, Tris I want to talk to you now," he says, his tone is pleading.

I don't want to talk to him. The thought is simple, but contradictory to what an Abnegation person would do. For the sake of friendships, though I stop.

"What is it?" I ask. My tone is sharper than I intended it to be.

"Don't you feel it?"

"Feel what?" The rest of my friends didn't see me stop so the continued walking.

"The unwanted-ness, we don't have a chef. Nobody has picked us, doesn't it hurt you?" He asks his tone begging to be understood.

I feel as if I should comfort him somehow, reassure him that somebody will pick him, but I can't. I've noticed it in class, although I didn't want to, that Al doesn't cook well. He doesn't excel at the slightest task. He isn't meant for Dauntless. However, I do hurt; the jealousy I keep at bay is fighting its way out though I don't tell him that.

He sees my expression and his face falls. I can't look so I stride briskly to class leaving Al in my wake. I say it so softly that I it is barely audible, but the word cringes when it is pronounced.

"Yes."

**[Page Break]**

"Do you need help?" A voice says quietly by my ear.

I whip around exposed to the class once again. Multiple scents waft throughout the room; it is the smell of chefs and sous-chefs at work. Seeing, as I am not a sous-chef I am alone cooking at random.

Al triggered a spark of something that motivates me to act as if not being chosen hasn't affected me. I smiled at my friends, insisted that I was fine, and was just going to mess around with some ingredients. Inwardly, I am moping by pouring spaghetti noodles messily in a pot of boiled water.

"I'm fine," I say neutrally.

Four cocks his head slightly and I recall that he, himself, does not have a partner in the competition yet. It baffles me why he hasn't chosen anybody; I have heard many vie for his attention, his favoritism.

"Let me," he says taking the bag from me and pouring them neatly in with a quick hand.

I notice again, how small I am compared to him; Four towers at six feet while I am somewhere near five feet. My head just reaches his shoulders.

"Thank you."

"So tell me Tris," his tone is conversational, an odd contrast compared to the usual instructor-voiced quality. "How are you enjoying Dauntless?"

His fingers skim his belt loops and after a second, he hooks his thumbs securely through them.

"I- I like the-" I stop myself before I say a somewhat standard response. "It makes me feel alive."

He quirks his mouth in a half-smile, lopsided, handsome. He is handsome; it is a fact more than an idle opinion.

"You might want to attend to those noodles," he suggests straddling a chair and tilting his head, looking at me.

I click off the stove quickly suddenly not wanting to mope alone with a pot of boiling noodles. I glance back at Four who still has his gaze directed at me; I can mope with Four.

"Do you like Dauntless?" I ask Four.

I would like to hear his genuine opinion of Dauntless although I'm not certain he will tell me.

"Mostly," he admits.

I don't have the energy to pry so I don't ask any further.

"Dauntless cake is a perk," he comments, mostly to himself.

"Dauntless cake?" I ask.

"You haven't had any yet? I thought that was some sort of a tradition that is performed on the fifth moon of a sophomore's year."

_Did he crack a joke?___

My mouth twitches upward.

"Who is supposed to perform the ritual? The instructors?" I ask.

"Oh crap, you're right! We were... Although it wouldn't be any fun if Eric was there."

I nod agreeing with him.

"I think Tori ate the last piece in the fridge yesterday... I'll have to make another..."

A prick of surprise runs through me at him not saying "Chef" before her name. She does seem motherly to him so I see why he might though.

"Would you like to help me?" He queries.

"Help you wha- Oh make the cake? Yes."

His mouth quirks, he seems happier than yesterday. He asked me to assist him in cooking, maybe he feels sorry for me, which would be odd since he tells me I cook well.

"Let's cook some Dauntless cake then."

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews, favs, follows, and everything.******

**Did anybody witness Comic-Con? The Divergent panel was amazing! It's somewhat funny how you can call Comic-Con "CC" though.******

**For any that have not heard the crazy news: Allegiant will be voiced from two POVS- Tris's & Tobs!******

**Read & Review!******

**P.S. -Do you pronounce sous-chef correctly?******

**-TFW**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**I don't own Divergent!**

**Four**

Avoiding three people was more problematical then I had expected the task to be. Zeke, Lauren, and Shauna were, in a literal sense, _everywhere_. I had a gut feeling that after I stormed out the discussed me and agreed to figure out what was wrong because by the time I snuck into my apartment yesterday fifty texts and seventy Kik messages demanded to be opened on my phone. I hadn't made any verbal contact with any of them until now seeing as they are here with their sous-chefs.

"Four, are you ok?" a voice sounds next to me reaching about shoulder height.

My gaze breaks from the wall down to the sophomore initiate standing on my left, waiting rather patiently for me to break out of my daze.

"Huh? Oh, sorry my bad," I say grimacing and quickly raking the hand that is not whisking the batter through my hair.

_I forgot to put gel in._

"No problem. What's the baking time?" She asks genuinely interested.

The students I see are here for a name, a prominent title in society that will commence their rise to fame. Undoubtedly, half of these self-called "chefs" will end up without the title they dreamed of and nothing near the position the expected while they jacked around in school. She understands though, that the title isn't just what she should be here for, and she is smart for that.

I _hope_ she understands that.

"I play at it..." Suddenly for no reason I wonder what she thinks of me.

_Do I look fine? Should've gelled my hair, damn it.__  
_  
I quickly brush the thought away a wave of confusion following it, but I dismiss the feeling also.

_Not the time, Eaton, not the time for this._

"So it's about 40-45 minutes," I say promptly, before the silence turns awkward.

"Sounds good," she replies drumming her small fingers against the black stone of the counter.

"You were kidding when you told me you haven't had Dauntless cake thought, right?" I ask.

She scrunches up her eyebrows which I find funny and she responds with an exasperated, "I wasn't _lying_, Four."

"Well, God, I didn't know how deeply the Dauntless have deprived you," I say my tone incredulous.

She laughs; the sound is high-pitched and sweet, but painfully fleeting. "I don't think it's that bad."

"If you never had Dauntless cake then you wouldn't understand, initiate," I say raising the side of my mouth slightly, in a half smile.

She laughs again, just as fleeting as the first, but for some reason equally satisfying.

"Pass me the sugar would you?"

"Sure," she says handing a measuring cup and a small glass jar of sugar to me.

"Thanks."

"No problem... So did you sign up to be an instructor or...?" She is curious; more than a former Abnegation would be and should be. An act of defiance all these years I suppose.

"Believe it or not," I my mouth hitches on one side, talking to her is easy although it shouldn't be. "I signed up to deal with you devils."

She smiles for some reason although in my tone it should've sounded reproachful or something of the sort.

I'm not positive that joking away my worries while making Dauntless cake with an initiate will help me later with my problems, but right now I don't have any desire to confront my dilemma. The memory of that burning in my stomach, the aggravation almost makes me want to apologize and not worry about being in the competition or not. Although I convince myself that I am purely paranoid I can still feel my friends' eyes at the base of my neck watching, wondering why I won't talk to them.

**[Page Break]**

The class is long, lengthy, extremely undeniably time consuming although I do not feel as if my time was wasted. The benefit of being a cook in Dauntless is the cake.

The oven sounds with a series of beeps that get overly monotonous after hearing it multiple times so I press the _Oven Timer_ button and the sound halts although I can still hear a self-invented echo of the rings in my mind.

"That smells…" Abnegation don't talk about their opinions, and I see Tris battle the selfless instincts that are still brewing inside her.

I remember the trouble I had as a sophomore. Being a so-called 'Stiff' and lame Abnegation the Dauntlessborns and transfers didn't take a liking to my grey on the first day and didn't for a while. I proved myself, I didn't earn the respect I have any other way, and I suppose Tris has to the same.

"It smells really good."

My mouth quirks upward, _she's starting_.

The smell of the chocolate laces through the air, soft waves of cocoa and vanilla dancing to people's noses making them sigh with a contented expression. In a literal sense, I can feel the cake already in my mouth, light, melt-in-your-mouth deliciousness, slightly frosted middle with the ever-appealing douse of chocolate to compliment the thick layer of it already in your mouth.

Quickly I frost the cake with an experienced hand, smoothing the layers down with the icing spatula and slightly skimming my fingers across the side of the base to rid of the excess icing. The aroma is tantalizing and leaves any Dauntless, including myself, breathless and cake-hungry. I turn my head to see Tris eyes wide mouth ajar as if she can consume the smell if she waits long enough. I chuckle.

"Like a piece?" I ask.

She nods vigorously still gazing longingly although she leaves her mouth closed this time.

"Four?" a voice asks behind me a hand on my shoulder.

"Zeke," I reply not turning to meet his worried gaze that I know is present.

My hand finds a knife the appropriate size and I slip forward to the counter causing Zeke's hand to drop although being him he will be casual about the gesture.

"Can I talk to you man?"

My arm tightens and I straighten my back, but I cannot get any higher in height than I already am. I slowly slice the cake emitting a warm buzz to appear in my stomach although I am still rigid.

"Yes, later. I'll meet you there," I say stoically.

I know he will not argue because he finally made progress, he got me to talk to him. I don't need to specify where 'there' is either because he knows where I am talking about already. He claps my back half-heartily and walks back to Uriah who is vigorously flipping a pan that contains a substance I can't identify because of my distance.

"Here," I say handing Tris her slice of cake.

She smiles a thanks, but my half-smile doesn't even reach to the half because my dilemma is back and the sense of dread that was gone for a while has reappeared.

**[Page Break]**

"What's up man? Come on tell me please, what's up?" Zeke says leaning against a jutted rock wall of the Pit drumming his fingers rapidly against the black demin of his jeans.

The area where the stone wraps around the ceiling high pole and the light is dim from the lanterns is where Zeke took me when e figured out I was a transfer and soon it became our hideout. Zeke was ecstatic that he had a "Stiff" to show around when he met me and I was actually grateful for a friend so I complied.

"Nothing," I respond averting my gaze.

"I know you, Eaton, what's up?"

"Ok. Just…" I rake my fingers down the stone causing my nails to become filed down and considerably shorter and for Zeke to wince. "I don't know what to do about this sous-chef stuff."

"Is that all?" he asks his tone incredulous.

I grit my teeth and inhale deeply. "Yes, that's _all_."

Zeke makes a face knowing he said the wrong thing. "Sorry, I meant uh… what's wrong with the competition?"

"You don't understand."

"No! I don't, and you won't tell me so it's not going anywhere!"

"I just don't know how to choose somebody to partner with me!" I say my voice quieting dangerously.

Zeke stops and gets an odd expression on his face. "Why don't you just choose like Luke or Hank or someone?"

"I don't-"Why _don't_ I just choose one of them. "I don't know ok!"

"Come on man," he says clasping my arm.

I shake him off biting my lip in thought.

"Where are we going," I growl narrowing my eyes.

There is a gleam in his eyes that I have only seen when teachers told us that drinking allowed for us seniors that I frankly don't understand is legal.

"We," he raises his eyebrows. "Are getting a drink."

**A/N: This was, in the literal sense, (I'm obsessed with writing that) the most difficult chapter to write for no absolute reason. Please do enjoy and thank you for follows, favs, reviews, etc… Allegiant is coming out soon, like 89 days soon. I'm exceptionally excited. To the nerdfighters: Best wishes**

**-TFW**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

I don't own Divergent!

**Four**

Zeke navigates the flood of Dauntless easily turning and sliding through people as if he's done this before, which he probably has. The blue lanterns that hang at random from the cavernous stone ceiling reflect off the metal that the Dauntless wear and glints brightly.

"What beer do you want?" Zeke asks me when he arrives in front of a bar that I've entered only a few times.

There are rooms and such for alumni Dauntless graduates that they can live in. Some of the Dauntless even build a life here after the return back from college, that's why when a child clad in black wielding a kitchen knife bursts past me I don't find it odd.

"I don't _want_ a beer Zeke," I say leaning against the wall running a cold hand through my ungelled hair.

I inhale shortly and exhale deeply to keep the aggravation and annoyance to a minimum that seems to keep cropping up for no reason.

"You don't _want_ it man, but you _need_ it. You need it, like freakin' bad."

He strides in through the obsidian doors and shoots smiles at girls in tight Dauntless clothing before the doors swings closed and my vision is blocked.

"Looks like you had a bad day," a voice says while a hand tightly grips my shoulder.

"What do you want Eric?" I ask tapping my sneakered foot.

"A beer, for this damn headache to go away, your position, to beat you up, a _lot_ of things, Four," he says ticking off what he 'wants' by flipping his fingers up on each subject.

His teeth bite forward to catch the metal ring through his lip and twirl it gently. I grimace. The motion is sickening; I don't understand how he can have a piercing.

"Well that's great, you're not going to get any of that, well besides the beer I suppose," I say placidly.

He stares at me emotionless, but a second later, his mouth twitches with annoyance at my unaffected state and my comment.

"Get out of my way, Eaton," he scoffs and struts into the bar with a disgusted expression. He knocks into Zeke who holds two muted brown bottles of what I suppose is the beer he bought, and they glare at each other before moving on.

"Ugh Eric is such an ass," Zeke mutters.

"Nothing new," I comment smiling slightly.

"Well I'm glad you're out of your mood." He claps my back handing me a cold bottle.

The condensation is cold on my hands and causes the bottle to slip from my grasp, but in a quick movement, I catch it and pop it open emitting a plunk sound. I sip at the bottle; the contents emit the same warm buzz in my stomach and heat my body. The taste is bitter with a tang of something sweet that I can't identify.

"Yo Four! Zeke-man! Come over here!" Voices call. My friends, not close like Zeke, but my somewhat friends, call out to us each holding a glass brown bottle and ridding of the contents by consuming it.

"Yo Lucas, Mark, and whoa haven't seen you in a while Silas," Zeke says clasping their hands. I do the same to all three of them although I don't feel in the mood for it.

I tip the bottle up to my lips and welcome the warmth of the drink because the Chasm sprays water onto my ankles chilling me. I inhale the damp smell that somewhat resembles rain on pavement and sigh. I would figure out this competition stuff at a later time, no use in worrying at this moment. Lucas cracks a joke and alcohol sprays out of Silas's mouth in a spurt of brown. My mouth quirks, it could possibly be the alcohol, but I'm good with alcohol, I don't intoxicate easily. I lean against the railing, the cold metal pressing into my skin and branding a straight red line I expect to see later.

"_Four_," Zeke nods at me.

I crease my eyebrows, but then brush off his look. I twirl the bottle in my hands noticing that it is almost empty. I pull the top toward my mouth and empty it; Mark passes me another one.

**Tris**

We sprint through the Pit, my friends and I, our feet slapping against the carved stone the impact sending a buzz through my feet.

"I want a tattoo," Al announces glancing at me as if I should agree with him. I glance away; I haven't talked to him regularly since his sudden rant to me.

"Tattoos? That's legal here?" Will asks his Erudite inquisitiveness showing through his curiosity.

"Yes, of _course_! Have you seen mine?" Uriah asks as we walk through the Pit.

Uriah angles his head so his neck is visible and I gaze at the ink curling around his ear before he snaps his head back. I look away quickly blushing.

"Uh I have a tattoo so yeah it's legal," I say.

"What! When did you get a tattoo, Tris-o? Stif-" Uriah stops himself before using the insult that Peter calls me.

I divert my gaze again a pluck of anger striking in my gut at the way he was about to flippantly use the word 'Stiff'. I inhale deeply before releasing my anger. _He is my friend so I must forgive him_, I chide myself.

_If I don't act like a Stiff then I won't be called one_. Simple as that, although not really.

Christina dragged me to the shops telling me that I needed a quick and absolutely dire change in style. The tight midnight jeans that cling to my skin make me feel self-conscious and the black shirt that cuts across my shoulders exposes the tattoo I got the day before. For some reason I had completely forgotten about the drawing on my skin before the pain lurched to an all time high in the morning.

There are three ravens in flight across my collarbone simple, beautiful, and painfully intricate down to the wispy feathers symbolizing my family. The three "birds" I left behind exposing myself to a new life.

"Where do you guys want to go?" Uriah asks.

"No idea," I mutter. There is a chorus of murmurs of "I don't know," or "doesn't matter to me."

I lean against the wall of the stone cavern and inhale the smell of water and crisp cool air. The lanterns hanging reflect eerily shadowing people's faces and invite darkness to take over. My eyes slide over the Dauntless roaming in the dim light, laughing so hard that they fall to the floor in utter hysteria and the tight clothe that they wear on themselves. The same clothe I am wearing.

Will moves to my right where he leans against the stone grooves as I do. "You seem down Tris, what's wrong?"

Erudite people and the way they see things, always so alert. He looks at me worried as if I'm his sister that got hurt. The action doesn't rub me the wrong way though because truthfully I think of Will as much of a brother as I do Caleb.

"Nothing really, I'm fine," I say sincerely.

I always learned that even if there is something that bothers me I must push it behind me because others worries are more important than my own. Abnegation, the simple yet peaceful life that they have still appeals to me somewhat opposed to the loud screams and yelps of the Dauntless.

"You can tell me Tris, don't worry I won't go tell Christina or anyone," he grins his celery eyes gleaming mischievously.

I have a sudden pang of gratefulness for my friends; I had been jealous of them for having chefs in the competition and yet they hadn't said anything boastful. Will and I are in the same boat, he hadn't been chosen and he seemed content.

"It's ok Will, I'll tell you if anything's up though," I smile at him and he nudges my arm as a friendly response.

Our group starts strolling again, and when I turn, I see Four with a bottle in his hand by the Chasm. Something his friends say makes him laugh and he has to grip the railing of the Chasm to steady himself. His gaze slides over and settles on mine interested and playful odd compared to his usual instructor expression.

"Uh oh instructor alert," Will announces. Uriah hasn't stopped sauntering so we are left behind.

"At least it isn't Eric, he would probably make us play chicken or something," I say.

"Sure, but Four is scary," Will counters.

"People deserved it," I say.

He doesn't argue. The people that get a stern talking to from Four are usually out of line themselves.

"Tris!" Four pulls away from the railing making his way toward me.

Will and I exchange look half surprise half apprehension. Al and Christina who were sprinting stop and Christina slides to the ground. They are staring, but I can't blame them, there are four of us and he is talking only to me.

"You look..." His words, which I usually cut, clean and crisp all sluggish. "Different."

"So do you," I reply. His stoic expression is relaxed into a boyish grin, which makes him look his age- eighteen. His sous-chef ways are washed away by the peaceful expression that is present and then is washed away by a devilish grin.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Flirting with death," he chuckles. "Drinking near the Chasm, probably not a good idea."

"No it isn't." I'm not sure if I like the way he is acting. The unsettling feeling I have doesn't leave entirely even as the warmth in my stomach spreads.

"Didn't know you had a tattoo," his eyes roam over my collarbone where my ravens are.

He takes a short swig from the bottle, and I can smell the distinct aroma of his breath. Thick and acute the smell of alcohol, like the factionless man's breath.

"Right," he nods. "The crows." He nods as if he knows what he is talking about although he shouldn't know anything about what the crows symbolize because I have never told him before.

He glances back at his friends who continue without him opposed to mine who are watching my every movement.

"I'd ask you to hang out with us, but you're not supposed to see me this way," he says sipping from the bottle.

I'm tempted to ask why he wants me to hang out with him, but I have the feeling that it has to do with the bottle in his hand.

"What way?" I ask still curious. "Drunk?"

"Yeah... Well no." His voice turns soft and quiet the way it does when he is mad although this sounds different. "Real, I guess."

"Well," I can't help but smile. "I'll pretend I didn't."

"Nice of you." He leans forward his lips brushing against my ear creating a warm feeling in the pit of my stomach. "You look good Tris."

My heart leaps, stutters,- I don't know _why_- but I wish it didn't because by the way his eyes slide over mine he has no idea what he's saying. I laugh.

"Do me a favor Four?"

He cocks his head at me quirking his mouth.

"Stay away from the Chasm."

"Of _course_," he winks.

I can't help it. I smile. Will clears his throat awkwardly, but I don't want to look away even when he turns back and strides toward his friends.

"What was _that_ about?" Christina asks.

"Nothing he just wanted to talk."

"Why are you smiling?" She asks.

"Because, it's funny to see him that way don't you think...?" I say it unconvincingly.

"Could it possibly be because-" I elbow Will tightly in the ribs.

He was close enough to hear what Four said about me looking good. We continuing walking through the Pit, and I can't wipe the smile off my face except when Drake a senior, asks Will to be his sous-chef. I clench my teeth, I should be happy for him. I put on a convincing smile acting as if I'm pleased with what I just happened to witness.

I rub my temples to release some of the hot pressure that resides there. We pass the spot where Four was drinking with his friends, and I see him with a junior talking about something I can't hear because of my distance.

"Sous-chef, really! Sure Four," the junior says. He is only slightly shorter than Four with sandy brown hair and grass green eyes.

He sounds surprised that Four asked him and frankly, when I hear it I am too.

"Yeah I'll see you tomorrow Dante," he says. They clap their hands together and Dante leaves striding up the stone steps happily.

Four sips his bottle alone fixating his blue gaze up at the ceiling. My stomach lurches for some reason. Four has a sous-chef, I don't even know Dante, but something goes through me a pang of anger, jealousy, or hurt. Emotions hurtle at me violently for what reason I can't explain.

I back myself up against the stone of the cavern breathing unsteadily; Four's eyes meet mine in surprise and he quirks his mouth asking for a smile in return. My stomach flips, but I don't return the smile.

_Four has a sous-chef.  
_

**A/N: I don't feel particularly well so tell me what you thought of this chapter. Thanks for the reviews and such. Anybody see the Allegiant synopsis? I'm so excited! The update was late because I was preoccupied with writing my own stories.**

**Book recommendation: Angelfall by Susan Ee (read the book twice yesterday and the day before) It's probably the best angel-related book that's out there. It's (no lying) as beautiful as Divergent.**

**Read & Review and tell me constructive criticism and what you think!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14******

**I don't own Divergent!******

**Four**

I sip at the bottle in my hand welcoming the soft buzz it brings adding onto the warmth in my stomach. My mouth creeps into a smile, widening when I see my junior friend Dante.

"Danny-boy!" Zeke yells before stumbling off again with my other friends.

Dante's head turns and he tips his head up to greet me.

_Why is he standing with his chin like that? Oh, yeah he's saying hi._

"Hi," I say tripping back slightly and chuckling at the sensation.

"You ok bro?" Dante asks chuckling uneasily.

My head is pounding, but I don't feel bad, no the sensation is thoroughly appealing.

"Yeah," my tone is slurred slightly. "What's been up?"

"Nothing, not much, just grabbing a few drinks," he responds nervously.

Huh, juniors aren't allowed to drink alcohol, maybe Dante is an exception. I take a short swig from the bottle emptying the contents; how many bottles have I had?

"Well Dante how would you like to be my sous-chef for the competition?" I ask quite a bit more soberly.

Dante and I were friends since he started as a sophomore, and I can trust him almost as much as I can Zeke. I see no reason why I shouldn't choose him; I mean I have to choose somebody at some point. I feel as if I'm sobering, but nobody sobers this fast. Maybe I wanted a take away; maybe I let the alcohol purposely affect me. I don't even know.

By the incredulous expression on his face he is still somewhat process my words although I don't see why, I mean he should know we _are _friends.

"Sous-chef? Sure Four!" he says something of the sort, and I register his tone is excited, giddy even.

I force a grin because now the alcohol is making my head pound rapidly. He bids me goodbye, and we exchange a handshake before I tilt my head up to the ceiling and inhale deeply. I drain the last few drops from the bottle grappling for the sips.

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow Dante."

_Bad idea to drink, damn you Zeke.__  
_  
I breathe for a couple of seconds before scanning the Pit. The lights seem too bright for my eyes although they are usually too dim for my liking. I squint shaking my head and trying to rid of the ache in my temples; damn to Zeke again. My gaze falls on a pair of bright blue eyes that seem surprised, confused yet just thoroughly surprised. I smile; Tris is the one sophomore that I enjoy talking to. God, did I actually tell her she looks good? In actually _considered_ I was sober; I must've looked extremely stupid.

I smile at her hoping that will make up if I appeared like a jerk- hopefully I didn't. I don't know why, but I feel as if my impression on her needs to be a good one or I've failed instructing correctly. The same goes for all the initiates I oversee although the emotion not as much to the extent that I have for Tris. Culinary is an art. I intend to get that through to all the initiates especially her.

**[Page Break]**

**Tris**

I suppose I really am selfish even with all the Abnegation upbringing I received. The moment I left the Pit I was shaking partly from the cold of the hallways, but mostly from the feeling of dread that I felt of seeing my peers tomorrow. It's odd how much culinary related topics can bother me yet when it comes to how amazing a dress appears I couldn't really care less. There are pros and cons to the matter though. Wandering the halls at night isn't particularly safe, but it's a habit that I've become too far attached to, to let go. The feeling is as pleasurable as cooking at four o'clock in the morning is, and _that _is saying something.

"Tris, what the hell are you doing here?" a voice hisses from behind me.

I flinch at the sound because of being surprised.

"Walking the halls can't sleep."

Uriah casts me a mischievous grin, and suddenly_ I'm_ wondering he's doing out this late on a night where we still have classes in the morning. I mean the only difference if it's a school night with the Dauntless is that they stay up until five o'clock _instead_ of six o'clock in the morning. I'm more of a night person so with the schoolwork I stay up until at least three anyways so I sleep at about four.

It's only one, but tonight I had a light load of homework so I don't know what to do. My friends are probably playing some game back at the dorms. Most of it includes Truth or Dare or some kind of first person shooter or sometimes RPG's. I still feel as if those things are self-indulgent though.

"Me too, wanna watch me shoot a muffin off Marlene's head? It'll be epic," he says smiling.

"Shoot a muffin off her head? With a _gun_?" I ask incredulously.

The Dauntless have guns, real guns that I have an odd urge to learn how to shoot. I've only seen Four shoot though, but from what I've seen in PT, he's magnificent. Incredible with his aim actually, it's entrancing.

"Well it's those guns with the plastic little bullet thingies you know? BB guns?" he says.

I pretend to know what he's talking about, pretend that I'm not as Abnegation as I still am.

"Sure."

He grabs my arm and yanks me towards the Training Room. The door clicks open, and Lynn is straddling a black chair that doesn't belong in the room. Marlene taps her foot impatiently, but when she spots Uriah and me she brightens. I suddenly remember Marlene likes Uriah, and then realize he might like her to. So very confusing, and I don't try to pry any further.

"Hey Tris!" Marlene says smiling brightly. She flashes Uriah a radiant smiling when she doesn't think anybody is looking.

"Ready Mar?" Uriah asks retrieving the gun from the seat of a chair.

"This is stupid Uri? Seriously what will this prove?" Marlene groans. She likes him secretly and still talks to him like he's a normal person not a god. Marlene is amazing.

"I get a third of your points if you kill me," she states.

"It's BB gun Mar, it won't kill you, besides you'll be dead anyway," Uriah says shaking the gun as if it's not working.

Lynn stares at the two of them interested. "I want Uriah's points."

"No, nobody will get my points because I'm not missing! I've an amazing aim like I told Tris-o already."

"No you didn't," I say creasing my eyebrows.

"Burn, Uriah such a burn," Marlene says laughing.

Lynn silently smiles along.

"Ok, ok! Whatever! I told _somebody_ about my aim!" he groans embarrassed.

"More like bragged about your aim," Marlene mutters positioning the muffin on her head.

I snort and Uriah shoots without any warning to any of us.

"Oh. My. God. You scared the hell out of me!" Marlene yells.

I notice that we shouldn't be in here, but we are all Dauntless so I don't think we need to care.

"Told you I have a good aim," Uriah replies smugly swiping the muffin off her head and breaking off a piece to eat. "This doesn't taste bad either, although it could use some more sugar."

I find it comical that since this is a culinary school that even in the oddest situations we still find time to comment on the food's quality.

"Night guys!" I call out to the three of them who bid me goodbye.

Maybe not having a chef isn't so bad. I can train on my own, and I'm not the best at working with others which I need to improve on since kitchen work is always with other people. However, I don't feel too bad and oddly enough I can say that a muffin helped me not to be sad.

**[Page Break]**

My morning was entirely optimistic. My classes went well and by the time CC rolled around I wasn't worrying about who would ask me to be their sous-chef. I was a good cook, and if nobody wanted to take up the opportunity of choosing I'm fine with that.

"Hi, Chef," I chimed to Chef Tori who seemed to be confused. "Is something wrong?"

Chef Tori was passionate about cooking which made me bond with her so much more than the others.

"Hi, Tris, no everything is fine, just confused," she answers so I take my seat and wait for Four to arrive.

Class always starts when he arrives now for some odd reason. My friends arrive and a couple seconds after, and Four strides through the door in black button down and jeans. He scans the room and knits his eyebrows before taking his seat next to Chef Tori. She asks him a question that I strain to hear- yet still can't-, but I can't tear my eyes away.

"There's been a rule that has seemed to unexpectedly cropped up," Chef Tori says her eyes conflicted.

Four's face is void from emotion, but I can see a hint of surprise there.

"What?" someone shouts.

"It seems that the rules are that if you do not participate in the competition you are to attend the Factionless branch of school. The reason apparently is because too many students do not do well enough in class, and have the financial area down, but the academic part is not finely honed. This letter was sent out by Erudite Principal Jeanine Mathews."

"What the hell does that mean," another voice asks.

"It means that if by- the extended date of Monday- are not registered as having a chef for the competition, you will not attend, in our case, Dauntless anymore."

The comment doesn't process to me as it does to others. I'm too confused. What does she _mean_?

Factionless?

_No. No, no, no._

Not a sous-chef then you no longer belong to a faction. Why? Why would they do this?

Several people I can see are withholding tears, and that immediately makes me think that they aren't suited for Dauntless, or maybe I'm too angry to see straight.

"What is culinary then?" somebody near the heart of the room jeers mockingly, attention seeking.

They don't want to accept the fact that Monday isn't that far away, and frankly neither do I.

"Culinary," Four responds quietly. "Is an art."

Four is right. Culinary is an art, an art I look forward to enjoying in Dauntless. I will not be Factionless. A small part in my heads jeers at me though.

_Will I?_

**A/N: Please enjoy! I heard I was nominated for the Divergent Awards by**_** Sunni96 **_**so if you get a chance I think the poll will be in her profile tomorrow. Thanks for nominating me! Whoever it was I'm glad you enjoy my writing! School is back on tomorrow so I'll see how updating goes, until then, Read & Review!**

**-TFW**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15******

**I don't own any rights to the amazing book of Divergent which is awesome to the extent of no extent at all.******

**Four**

The initiates' eyes are shifty as they glance from me to Tori and then slowly scrape back to me. They are nervous, appalled, at the least surprised but I, I am stunned.

"Class is over," I announce my eyes shifting from a group of boys that Lauren oversees in training and land on Tris.

She stares at me as if I should've informed her of the sudden atrocity. I open my mouth to tell her I didn't know, I couldn't have, but she briskly strides out of the classroom at my dismissal. The others who are perplexed by the early let out slowly pack their belongings and head to their next class.

"What was that?" Tori asks me as Dylan, the last student leaves.

"What?" I ask my tone even.

"We still had twenty minutes Four that was basically a whole lesson," she sighs.

I should be leaving for PT Coach is probably wondering where I am at right now, but I'm confused and I demand an answer.

"What the hell was that?" I ask quietly.

"Do you know Mrs. Matthews from Erudite?" Tori asks me.

"She's the principal right?"

"Yes, she is directing the event because those Erudite's think they're all _that_-"

It's slightly comical hearing an adult say "all that" even if it _is_ Tori and we _are_ Dauntless.

"Yes, apparently she wanted to up the antle on competition, and decided to get rid of all _unworthy _sophomores."

"That's just- wait _Erudite_ oversees the competition?"

"Who else but the most intelligent," Tori rolls her eyes feigning adoration.

Her expression alters to one that realizes I am still her student when somebody knocks on the door. Dauntless don't knock, in general we aren't very polite in any circumstances.

_Has to be a transfer then._

"Come in," Tori answers burying her face in her hands sighing deeply.

"Chef Tori I wanted to ask you if…" Tris's voice trails off as her gaze flickers to mine.

She's changed into her PT clothe although she still has her boots on; sweat is dripping from the pale curve of her neck and I wonder what I missed.

"Yes, Tris?" Tori doesn't dismiss me so I awkwardly back into a desk.

Her eyes drift to the laces of her boots as if she is mentally searching for a way to tie them while not making eye contact with Tori or me. I should leave I really should, but my curiosity about Tris compels me to stay even though I know I am the reason she is not speaking.

"Never mind, I'll come back later…" her feet drift toward the direction of the door desperately.

She quickly in three long strides exits the room once again but this time I shoot Tori an 'I'll talk about this later' look and grab for Tris's hand. She pulls away quickly but stops as I open my mouth to speak.

"Don't worry," my voice says although I don't even know where I am taking the conversation toward. "You belong here with us… You'll," I look away embarrassed that my inner thoughts made an appearance in real life. I scratch at my neck. "You'll be fine."

"How can you be sure?" she asks. Her voice has a hard edge of steel lodged deeply inside of her.

I want to continue reassure her that this is how it was for me that I had a hard time at the beginning too. I can't though. A much as her eyes plead with mine and beg for a response I can't provide one and the answer to that question is simple enough: I don't have one.

"Tell me Four," she, compared to the others reactions, seems to have hardened opposed to breaking.

"I can't…" I say quietly and when I can't handle the tension anymore, like a coward, I walk away.

_She'll be Dauntless. _

_She'll be fine._

Reassuring myself wasn't an uncommon thing to do, most people do at some point but the voice in my head kept asking me something I wasn't sure of, I didn't know what to think.

_Why do I care about her anyway?_

**[Page Break]**

Zeke doesn't ask me of anything today. He seems to have regained his blatant infatuation with Shauna who is as oblivious as he is blatant. I haven't seen him at all after classes ended. Socializing isn't my strong point it never has been, but I am comparably quieter today. I've spoken to Dante once today asking him if tomorrow was a good day to train and he immediately agreed. Of course he did. I _am_ the one who chose him.

I lazily push the noodles I am stir frying to the center of the pan. I shouldn't though; they'll burn up if I laze around. Frankly, I don't have an idea of what I am meaning to make besides attempting to stir fry the noodles.

"Get out of it Four," I scold myself.

I hadn't seen Tris after I walked away and it doesn't reassure me that I'm being avoided. I actually turn around expecting to see her doing one of her late night excursions to the kitchen to be greeted with a cold wave of silence.

Giving up on the idea of lo mein or anything close to a dish with noodles I grab a piece of cake from the fridge and inhale it in five large bites. The empty feeling in my stomach doesn't fade although it is slightly lifted.

"My brother was wondering about you Four."

"How so Uri?" I respond wary of speaking to another person though glad to not be so lonely.

Operating on my own had taken years of practice to overcome the seclusion although humans aren't built for solitude.

"Just a little more of his Shauna chatter then a little of 'huh I wonder where my best friend is' talk," Uriah laughs.

Compared to Tris he is lucky to have his brother who immediately chose him.

"Funny I thought he wouldn't think of me in his state of infatuation," I reply darkly although I was going more for comical and feigning bitterness.

"Are you okay Four?" he asks slicing himself a piece of Dauntless cake the height of his hand and the width.

"Me? I'm fine," my tone digs into sarcasm.

"God this cake is good, and if you say so," he says.

"I made it," I reply turning so that I straddle my chair between my legs.

"Zeke wanted me to say that she'll be fine."

"_What_?" I ask wondering if Zeke made me discover why I'm moping right now.

"Of course I asked who the hell this "she" was but by then he fell asleep," Uriah says mostly musing to himself.

"Thanks Uri," I say quickly rising from my chair.

Before he can object I am off to contemplate in my room. I stare up at the ceiling tilting my head so that my vision is clearer on the left.

Tris's name seems to rotate throughout my thoughts repetitively as if I can't hear it too many times.

If this is what it feels to start having feelings for somebody then life just more complicated.

**A/N: Apologies for the long wait and the diminutive word count. I felt like I needed to get into Four's mind a bit before my ideas start coming into action and that's what kinda threw me off. Well that and the essay, quizzes, and homework in every subject. Curse homework and its entire offspring.**

**I saw TMI TCOB yesterday and all I have to say is: I am **_**so **_**freakin confused. It was either me who hadn't read the book in a long time or the random stuff they threw in was really confusing. Presumably the latter.**

**The DVG 12 sec trailer was awesomeness and I'm probably missing the real thing right now because of writing this. Oh well, at least there's ig.**

**Read & Review**

**-TFW**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16******

**I don't own Divergent!******

**Tris**  
  
My dreams are fleeting disasters. In an all, they don't even contain much content. Shadows of darkness, eerie voices resembling my internal imagination of Mrs. Matthew's voice.

Not integral in the slightest manner.

The sweat creasing my neck and hairline don't allow me to resume sleeping. Instead, my throat is dry lips chapped flaking with skin. I grope the sheets of my bed searching for the bottle of water I keep at my side for the purpose of me being parched continuously.

"Damn it."

For some reason my heart beats faster with nervousness at the curse word. I don't realize it's not me who said the phrase until light peaks through the door just as it did the time Uriah came in. I glance at Uriah's bunk and see him a hand under his head an arm wrapped around his neck. His shirt rides up so you can see the muscles defining his ribs barely visible. The thought of me looking makes me blush although it is only Uriah, my friend.

"Goddy door," the same voice hisses.

I squint adjusting my vision. The action seems like déjà vu.

"Anybody?" The voice asks.

"What- who is it?"

"Tris?" The voice is familiar.

"Four?"

"And now I'm imagining things," he sighs discontented.

I let out a long breath taking in the scent of my blankets and the tint of cinnamon that follows me whether I cook with the spice or not.

"Four, is that you?"

I overreacted with Four earlier. It isn't his fault that nobody wants to choose me. As Uriah would say about others, I need to grow the hell up.

"Do you know how to treat burns, Tris? All I know and I don't know how to treat a burn," Four says his voice hinted with hysteria.

The light of the hall is dimly shone so that I am able to see his frame against the turn of the wall. Tall, lean, and mildly- in a non-showing off manner- muscular.

Burns? What is he talking about?

I hop from the side of my bed landing with a soft thud on the balls of my feet. The sudden movement causes my vision to blank to fill with an overwhelming rush of dark ebony.

"What burn, Four? Are you alright?"

His fingers quickly curl around my wrist when I reach him. A burn two inches in width and about as long as half a ruler streaks his arm although it isn't severe.

"Stumbled upon my initiates after burning myself. Sorry if I woke you," he says tiredly.

"Soy sauce."

"What?" He asks me his eyes flickering.

It must be at least 3:00 in the morning. I can barely keep my own eyes open.

"Soy sauce will help the burn. The Training Room has some right?"

"Yeah."

In my initial teachings that my mother taught me she always reinforced in my mind that culinary caused injury at some point. Knowing that soy sauce helps with a burn never seemed relevant then, but watching Four wince makes my stomach boil.

His fingers slide down lacing themselves together with my own. I try my best to ignore the warmth in my gut that spreads to my toes.

"I hope I didn't just drag you here against your own will," Four comments as we quickly walk down the hall.

He acts as if his fingers aren't still intertwined with my own.

"It's fine. Burns are more important than my sleep," I say fighting the urge to let loose a yawn.

He doesn't release my hand even when he should probably use his better arm- his right one- to open the door. It oddly makes me feel important.

He reaches to the top shelf of the very left cabinet on the right pulling out the brand of soy sauce I prefer. Kikkoman. The best one with rice when I don't feel like cooking something elaborate, which is rare.

"How am I supposed to do this?" Four asks staring at the bottle of soy sauce.

"I... Haven't actually ever had to do this since I don't burn myself. No idea..." I say.

His fingers slide from mine to grip the bottle with both hands. He pours a spoon of the dark liquid into a small measuring spoon. Wincing he spreads it across the burn sighing with what I presume is pleasure. The cold liquid would help I suppose.

"How'd you burn yourself?" I ask cautiously.

He doesn't like questions I know that much about him, but he doesn't seem to be himself at the moment.

"Cooking," Four says grimacing. "I wasn't paying attention I guess."

That in itself doesn't reflect his personality at all. He is cautious, quiet, and smart, Four doesn't just not pay attention.

"Late night inventions aren't always the best ideas."

I laugh fleetingly. He surprisingly returns my smile.

"I suppose not," I glance down at his arm.

"It's not bad. I've been burned before, but that was always when the infirmary was open so that really didn't help my case."

I don't ask why he was in the initiates' dorms after he was burned, I don't want to intrude although I'm deadly curious.

"Well now you know," I say.

He doesn't seem to notice when his hand slips into mine again. I know I do.

When I'm in bed again staring at the dark oblivion I can't help but notice that he didn't bring up the competition at all. Four with no partner made me feel as if I was okay without one so when that factor was eliminated I didn't handle it well. I really don't know who would though. Even the Dauntless have feelings, and our pride contributes so much to our emotions. I've noticed. My thoughts are on overdrive, and even though I was drowsy earlier my mind flares.

_Divergent._

What a peculiar word.

**[Page Break]**

Christina smiles more than usual today. She and Will don't part sides unless Christina ventures to the bathroom and for him the same. Uriah seems to have disappeared off the grid because even his brother has no idea of his whereabouts. I talk to Marlene and Lynn though not really because they both seem preoccupied in thought today.

"Tris, may I have a word with you?" Chef Tori asks as I enter the CC classroom.

My eyebrows knot before I cock my head and nod. I sling my backpack over a chair wedging my foot under so that it doesn't tip over.

"Yes, Chef?" I ask as she leans herself against the sleek black walls and closes her eyes.

"Have you considered why you haven't been chosen yet?" She asks me her tone oddly conversational for a superior.

My cheeks flare with color and the best I can do to hide my embarrassment from the question is to advert my gaze. The panels of ebony metal seem to entrance me now although they haven't before. I feel her gaze burning into me though and I know I must answer.

"Maybe because I'm not good enough," I hiss my eyes narrow as if it is an accusation.

I didn't intend for it to come out that way, I didn't, but it did and I wince. Chef Tori seems unfazed though and if I weren't in these circumstances I would swear that I her lips tilt into a suppressed smile, the ones I notice she saves for Four when she acts motherly.

"Is that what you think?" She asks incredulous her eyebrows raised laughing.

"What other factor would it be?" I ask my tone hard.

"Oh my God, this is just- Tris thank you for talking to me," she says striding into the classroom occupied my about two dozen students.

"Am I late?" A breathy voice asks behind me.

I let out a heavy breath and turn around shrugging at Four. He tips his chin up and grins at me fleetingly as if we know something everybody else doesn't, and I suppose we do because as he enters the room he rolls down his sleeves to cover his burn. I follow in his wake shuffling my feet slightly so the noise I make is noticeable as I enter. I take my seat near the left edge of the room and frown when I notice my backpack has been opened.

"Chef, are we partnering up again with our sous-chefs?" A senior asks from the hall his head cocked around the corner.

"Oh, yes Jaxon, come in," Chef Tori answers.

She turns to Four voicing something quietly to him that causes to appear disbelieving. He shakes his head quickly as if convincing himself that she isn't telling the truth and my curiosity makes me thirst for the knowledge of simply knowing.

Everybody groups themselves with their partner grinning brightly as they laugh working together, getting to know each other's cooking style better. Four scans the room I suppose for Dante but he is not present. Chef Tori says something to him and he nods while rubbing his arm, the area where he burned himself.

"Tris, is that you?" a voice asks directly behind me.

"The one and only," I respond irritated.

"Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" Callan asks me grinning.

"Not at all," I reply my gaze flickering from Chef Tori to Four who seem to be in a serious debate.

My feet tap at a brisk pace and I assume Callan notices that I'm not in the mood to discuss anything because he leaves his post besides me. I should've been kinder.

The room fills with various aromas sparking my inner culinary fanatic to burst out and run to a stove at this immediate moment, but I contain the emotion. A baffled appearing Four stands in front of me for a moment before sliding a note across the black stone of the desk before he nods at the slip of paper gesturing for me to open it. My heart stutters for some reason.

The slip of paper is torn and ragged at the top although the bottom is straight and clean. My fingers run over the top as I read and reread the message praying to God that Four isn't playing some joke on me.

The note reads:

_Chef Tori has informed me of the peculiar (quite peculiar) reason that you have not been chosen as a sous-chef. According to her you as a chef is off limits from the pool of selection, meaning that you aren't allowed to be chosen by anybody. Now this does sound really damn odd, but in my entire defense I had no idea. The basic meaning for you I suppose (although I have no idea how): You have a chance Tris. I'm sure you'll be fine._

_-Four_

Four doesn't joke though.

**A/N: One the first note: The Divergent Trailer, By the freaking Angel. The beauty of ALL of it. Next, to all my reviewers thank you! I really appreciate how much you enjoy my story!**

**Read & Review!**

**Yenyangyo46: Thanks for such the positivity in all of your reviewing!**

**P.S. In all of my Erudite curiosity: How old do you think I am by my writing?**

**-TFW**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**I don't own Divergent!****  
****  
****Four**

_Chef Tori has informed me of the peculiar (quite peculiar) reason that you have not been chosen as a sous-chef. According to her you as a chef is off limits from the pool of selection, meaning that you aren't allowed to be chosen by anybody. Now this does sound really damn odd, but in my entire defense, I had no idea. The basic meaning for you I suppose (although I have no idea how): You have a chance Tris. I'm sure you'll be fine. I believe in you; you belong with us.  
_

_-Four__  
_

* * *

It wasn't as if my message was blatant in the slightest way although it was even less information revealing than I intended it to be. By Tris's expression she probably- she is fuming. I couldn't provide any more information because I, myself, don't have any _to_ provide.

Tori avoided me as long as humanly possible that day, which in fact was today. The situation that at hand isn't comprehendible. According to Tori's oh-so-detailed-explanation, I can't understand crap. I shouldn't either, it doesn't involve me in the slightest, but I feel as if it does.

The ground of the halls is slick sliding comfortably underfoot although the need to keep balance is present. Each door I pass by is either lit with a glow of light signifying a teacher's presence or a buzz of darkness. The Training Room is the latter although it is opened at all times.

All classrooms are placed at the left of halls and teachers offices at the right. Judging by which side you are on though they are vice versa. I notice a slight figure down the hall rapping their knuckles against what I'm sure is Tori's office. I squint and stride closer so I can decipher the person.

"Chef, _please_ I just have a question," the figure sighs- it's a feminine voice although it is deeper. She turns so that her face is to me. "Four?"

"The one and only," I confirm.

"She won't let me in," she looks at me for help.

"Noticeable, Tris."

She scowls at me, and I realize she thinks I'm responsible for this situation. Whoever designated her not to be eligible hadn't consulted me in any manner- seeing as I am her instructor. The luck of it all is that even without others being aware that she wasn't eligible, she still _wasn't_ selected. I could've selected her. It could've worked. I can't though now. Dante is my partner.

"Just _shut up_, Four," she hisses.

I wince. She sure does think it's my fault. She continues to knock on the door and I tentatively grab her wrist and bring it down to her side. She doesn't move her arm from my grasp although she tenses.  
_  
__I held her hand last night- not much different._

"Why are you here anyway?" In her anger, she doesn't even seem like a former Abnegation.

"Tris, I don't know what the reason is, but don't blame me, _I_ wasn't aware of this either," I say calmly.

Her face contorts before she inhales once and gazes steadily at me. "Sorry, I'm just really frustrated."

The way she goes about things, the way she acts, and even the way she talks, it reminds me of my sophomore year. The year when that one word was whispered quietly; the word that caused confusion and frustration in me. The one word that seemed to be directly aimed at me.

"I understand."

_Divergent_. It was a dangerous thing.

* * *

The soft patter of our footsteps echo louder than usual throughout the hallways; the soft tap of stone scraping underfoot. I vouched to accompany Tris on her pursuit to find her answers, partly because I feel as if I'm obligated to as her instructor and possibly because I enjoy being around her.

"Do you think Chef Max would have answers?" Tris asks walking briskly besides me to keep up with my wild pace. I slow down and look away having an internal debate with myself.

Chef Max never favored me although he knew I was a superb student. As if to directly defy Tori's opinion, he was partial to me with Eric. I wouldn't ask him anything. This isn't the time to be biased though.

"Possibly, I wouldn't ask him though," I say accidentally forgetting not to be unfair to Chef Max.

"Why not ask him?" Her shoulder brushes mine lightly.

"Well primarily because he hates me," I say.

I didn't intend for it to be amusing, but she laughs.

"I'm not kidding! He loves Eric," I say my eyebrows creasing at her sudden laughter.

"He likes Eric?" her tone becomes incredulous and at that, I smirk.

"Goddy odd isn't it?" I ask stopping as she leans herself against the door of a teachers of office.

Her mouth quirks slightly before turning down at what appears as an upcoming thought.

"Do you think I'm not eligible because of lack of skill?" she asks quietly.

My eyes widen in disbelief of the question. She's as damn good as I was when I was a sophomore. Lack of skill has nothing to do with the atrocity.

"Is that what you think?"

By the look in her eyes this isn't the first time she has asked this question. She shrugs at me, and I realize that I would be questioning my skill if I were in the same position. Damn to whoever did this.

"No, not at all. I've seen your skill. You're superb, fantastic really-"I stop when I realize I'm standing here spilling out compliments to an initiate.

An _initiate_.

_My_ initiate.

"Thanks, Four," she has a conspicuous grin on her face. It takes me too long to realize I'm being mocked.

I wince- I've been doing that too much lately- and shake my head.

She was confusing, intriguing, and likeable in the every sense of a former Abnegation and newly Dauntless could be. She was some sort of question that I didn't understand fully and I wanted an answer.

**Tris**

When I arrive back to the dorms, my peers are asleep. Uriah is sprawled across the floor hugging a pillow at his side. For the most part, I was still internally furious with Four and Tori, but my conversation with Four helped clear my head. He didn't know- he couldn't have. I don't know how many times I have to convince myself of this until it goes through.

A paper is lying on the ground residing under the nook between my desk and bed. I see that it is the paper Caleb dropped the time he accidentally was lost in our compound. I click my light on, the lamp my mother told me was quite Erudite, and it detected the type of mystery ink Caleb enjoyed creating when we were twelve. I slide the paper onto my desk ready to fall back into my sheets when the faint lettering catches my eye.

_Ineligible Individuals (consult Mrs. Matthews on such terms of confusion)_

_-Gavin Freeman_

_-Ella Cannon _

_-Vee Dane_

_-Beatrice Prior_

_-Callan Dosark _

_-Daren de la Cruz_

_(Information to be passed to all head faction teachers and staff)_

A list? Caleb was in possession of this. He must've known. He seemed nervous that night. Caleb was part of this. I don't understand. A pulse of anger is blinding my intellection, and I know I need to inform somebody of this before I do something undeniably rash.

I suddenly remember all of Four's compliments his sincerity of not knowing this situation.

_Four, he should know._

I don't even notice the thin line of blood running from my lip dribbling down my chin from my teeth assaulting my bottom lip as I stride out the door. I don't suppose I would notice much now.

* * *

**A/N: If I didn't update today it would've been two weeks without updating! Apologies on my part. Standardized testing sucks to death. **

**Who has: seen the Allegiant teasers, read the Allegiant sample, read The Transfer, seen all these Divergent awesomeness stuff, noticed that Imagine Dragons song: Monster comes out on the 19****th****, ANY idea where LostinthePost is (If you're reading this Lost).**

**Read & Review!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

**I don't own Divergent!**

**Four**

It's odd that I hadn't noticed what peculiar rules there are in the competition. There is no name for it, instead of working with a whole kitchen you have a single chef and a sous-chef, and although there has been training, sophomores wouldn't know a thing without more classes.

_Except for a couple._

Every year there are the students who understand more than the usual trainees, who excel. It takes a strong mentality to be in the kitchen. Obeying orders and being reprimanded for your mistakes is not everyone's strong point. The distinctive placing of Tris in a pool where she is not able to be selected is even more baffling because it can't be only her. There must be a reason and if she is not eligible she must be in a select group that together isn't eligible. It frustrates me because I care more than I should. She should be an initiate to me, like the cruel Peter is, or the former Candor Christina that appears to be Tris's best friend; I shouldn't care for her this much.

_But you do._

"No shiz Sherlock," I mutter to myself.

I am pacing, rapidly to be exact. I pull my phone out of my pocket and breathe deeply sliding myself onto my bed. Perhaps, I'm overthinking too much. Perhaps, there is perfectly reasonable answer to the atrocity. Perhaps, there are just too many "perhaps" and "what ifs".

I outline the paint of _FEAR GOD ALONE_ on my wall with my fingertips. I painted it at the end of my sophomore year. It was a mental mechanism to keep myself from the darker thoughts. My thought process is cut off by two sharp raps on my door. The person on the other side is noticeably impatient because before I can slip off of my bed he knocks again louder rapidly.

"I'm coming!" I say irritated. I slide open the door and Tris stands there holding a lone sheet of paper and the most peculiar of all: a lamp.

She holds a hand up to the doorframe leaning her bodyweight against the metal panting as if she had sprinted here; perhaps she had.

"What is…?" I am cut off by her disgruntled sigh of frustration.

"I know you're my instructor and I should probably be asleep, but please look at this," she pleads with me as if she expects me to say no.

Crimson blood dribbles down the side of her chin drying with the exposure of air. Tris looks unhinged at the least, her fists tightly gripping around the tan neck of the lamp and the mystery paper crumpling in her touch. Her eyes beg for me to answer.

"What do you want me to look at?" I ask creasing my eyebrows in question.

"This paper but you need the lamp it's this ink Caleb used to use and I don't think that it's exactly like it but I can't be-"

I stop her rambling by lightly touching her shoulder. "Here, just show me what you mean. I swear I'll listen."

She plugs in the lamp in an outlet behind my door and slides the paper backside over, under the fluorescent lighting.

_Ineligible Individuals (consult Mrs. Matthews on such terms of confusion)_

_-Gavin Freeman_

_-Ella Cannon_

_-Vee Dane_

_-Beatrice Prior_

_-Callan Dosark_

_-Daren de la Cruz_

_(Information to be passed to all head faction teachers and staff)_

The writing confuses me although at the same time I feel victory in being correct. There are others like her, non-eligible students.

"If it's not only me, why am I in this group?" Tris asks me anxiously.

I shake my head not having an answer for her.

"Four, please," at her voice I clench my teeth.

My eyes skim the paper for any evidence, anything that would trace this paper back to its author. The name hits me in-between the eyes making me pant shortly trying to regain my composure. Mrs. Matthews- Jeanine Matthews, head of Erudite. I know her, she tried to get me expelled my first year in Dauntless although she wasn't even responsible for my actions seeing as she was the head of Erudite, not Dauntless. She hates me, and the feeling is quite mutual. I need to speak to Tori, but she is still avoiding me.

"Tris," my tone is calm although I am the opposite at the moment. "Do you think I could keep this? And the lamp? So I can maybe figure this out?" She gazes at me briefly before nodding and suddenly she is gone making me wonder if maybe this was just a dream.

_**Tris**_

I am going to visit my brother. The Erudite dorms are above ground unlike the Dauntless Compound so I advance up many steps and turns of halls to reach my destination. When I arrive out of Dauntless into the night air I inhale deeply. I haven't witnessed the incandescence of the moon in months or the pure freshness of the air. I have seen Erudite's HQ before and have been told that their lights are always on even though it is not permitted. The rumor is true; the radiance of the artificial light burns my eyes causing me to squint. I tread lightly toward a door where people in blue enter- the entrance of the HQ.

It is against the rules of the factions for me to be present in any other school but my own; I will risk the disgrace for an answer.

_Faction before blood._

I slip my slight frame through the doors and search for a figure that resembles my brother. Just as I debate on risking my identity to ask somebody of Caleb's whereabouts a hand taps my shoulder.

"Beatrice is that you?" Caleb's eyes show confusion. His appearance is different. He is wearing black framed glasses uncomfortably perched on his nose and his outfit is entirely consisted of the color blue.

"Caleb? Why do you have glasses? You have perfect vision? And so much blue…"

His eyes scan me before answering. "Blue is a calming color and what about you? So much black…" He hesitantly eyes my ravens.

I shake my head ridding of my unending questions. "You dropped a sheet of paper Caleb, when you were lost in my compound. Do you know it means?" I gaze at my brother sincerely.

He pales as if I brought up a topic he rather not discuss. "Bea, you need to leave."

"No, tell me what that is supposed to mean! I know you know what's on the goddy back!" I hiss louder then I intended.

He grimaces as if in pain and then walks away, quickly shuffling himself into a crowd of Erudite. I don't attempt to pursue him.

When I whip around fuming two men grip my arms leading me somewhere as I struggle. "What are you doing? Let me go!"

I am led to a long counter secluded compared to the large entrance of Erudite. The stone of the counter is blue. A woman with long blonde hair cut practically for an Erudite and a blue dress on that hugs the layer of pudge and stretch marks at her stomach and legs strides to the other side of the counter opposite to me. I know who she is though, my father used to rant about at dinner, something so unlike usual Abnegations.

"Hello, Beatrice, I'm Mrs. Matthews, Jeanine Matthews."

I attempt to search for Caleb somebody that will help me leave. He is nowhere to be found, but when he suddenly appears in my line of vision appearing ashamed then glancing away quickly I realize one thing: my brother is lost to me.

**A/N: Greetings! It's been quite a long time since my last update- three weeks to be exact. Thank you for all the reviews received previously! Do give feedback on the quality please.**

**A favor: Does anybody and I mean **_**anybody**_** at all know where in the world LostinthePost went? Please do tell me if you know.**

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